


Debris

by dea_ex_machina



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, And They Were Tent-Mates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Death, Denial of Feelings, Family Issues, Flashbacks, Hiking, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Dream-Gore, Pining, Sibling Incest, Slow Burn, Thorki Big Bang 2019, Unrequited Love, last wishes, mentioned alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-29 07:41:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21406606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dea_ex_machina/pseuds/dea_ex_machina
Summary: The thing Loki knows about misfortune is that it begins with covetousness. And coveting his older brother is what has diverted their paths all those years ago, the day before Thor’s wedding.Five years later, Loki finds himself being dragged along on a hiking trip through Norway to fulfill their recently deceased father’s dying wish. Now it's only Loki, Thor, the endless vastness of Norway, and the package of unresolved feelings that Loki has been diligently trying to push away since he was a teenager. But when it comes to surviving a week in the wilderness with your estranged brother, cramped together in a single tent and your father’s ashes stuffed into your backpack, there’s hardly any way of keeping your guards up, is there?
Relationships: Jane Foster/Thor, Loki/Thor (Marvel), Sif/Thor
Comments: 30
Kudos: 122
Collections: Thorki Big Bang 2019





	1. Part 1: What's the story, morning glory?

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is! My very first attempt at writing (and publishing) a Thorki-fic in english!  
I still can't believe I did it - especially the part where I actually produce 28k of words in such a small period of time. I'm a bit anxious if anyone will like what my mind came up with, but I had fun writing it, and I guess that might be at least half the price!  
Thanks to renderedreversed for betaing this thing: her support, insight and advice were of inestimable value, and neither language obstacles, nor crazy talking-hours due to time differences kept her from helping me birthing this monster! You rock, rere!  
Thanks to na_shao, who created absolutely wonderful art for this fic! She has this unique stile, that perfectly catches the tenderness of a scene and melts my stone cold heart into a puddle. I said it once, I'll say it a thousand times: I love it - ALL of it! Go check out her stuff, she's brilliant!  
And last but not least, thanks to all the BigBang-participants over at discord! This was one hell of a ride and witnessing your hopes, struggles and progress alongside mine made this journey so much more fun!
> 
> This fic comes in 3 parts and will update every 2 days!
> 
> As for now, all I have left to say is: Enjoy!

**Part One**

**What’s the story, morning glory?**

**New York City, 2019, autumn**

“I still can’t believe you convinced me to do this," I say, while shuffling into my seat at the window. The plane is crowded and somewhere in the front I can hear an infant crying. Apparently the baby is trying to bawl its lungs out. There really should be a law banning parents from taking their babies on flights. 

Tucking away his parka in the overhead locker, Thor gives me a grin and bumps my shoulder jokingly. “C’mon brother, this’ll be fun! Just like the old times! Just you, me, and the endless wilderness of Norway.”

I lift a questioning brow. 

“Oh, c’mon, you know what I mean." Thor shrugs and lets himself crash into the seat next to me. He has gained weight these past years, and the belly he‘s sporting makes for an even more impressive sight now that he is sitting. “All those summers we spent camping in the garden. The times we went hiking as teenagers? Our little adventures!”

“Oh, so you’re talking about all those nights I had to lead you back into the house after sundown, because you swore you’d seen a bear behind mother’s rose bushes?” I try to look casual by flipping through a magazine I bought back at the airport, but I‘m pretty sure it’s hard to miss the disapproval in my tone.

Thor’s grin fades. “Are you going to complain about this the whole vacation?”

“Possibly.”

“It is dad’s last wish to have his ashes scattered in his home country.”

“And it was your idea to turn this into a hiking trip.”

Thor sighs. “We only ever see each other at funerals now. I just wanted to spend some quality time with my little brother again.”

There’s a tiny sting in my heart at these words. I try to ignore it and make a point in turning the page of my magazine though I don’t understand a single word that I read. 

After a while, I say, “Well, at least I can slice your belly, gut you, and crawl inside to save myself from freezing to death should we encounter a bad weather front.” I give him a pointed look, poke his belly lightly and add, “After all, I would have plenty of space in there.”

“Hey!”

“Seriously brother, when did you get this _ fat _?”

A passing stewardess, asking us to fasten our seatbelts, saves Thor from answering. In contrast to the playful mocking of my words, I’m far from amused by my brother’s current physical condition. There are bags under his eyes as well as a general neglect of his whole appearance. His blonde hair, which had been short and radiant on the day before his wedding five years ago, now reaches down to his shoulder, lank, and messily tied at his neck. Had I not insisted that I was not, in fact, going to accompany a homeless wannabe hipster on this flight, his beard would be in a similar state of devastation. But thus, Thor took half an hour prior to cut it into something somewhat presentable. 

What concerns me the most is that Thor also seems a lot quieter and paler than usual. I mostly remember him as the handsome jock with the broad shoulders, healthy tan, and the big, goofy smile. _ But after all, we haven’t really seen each other in five years. People change. _

The painful memory of our last meeting flashes before my inner eye and I hastily try to push it aside. The last thing I need on this trip is being overwhelmed by sentimentality. Why have I even agreed to this?

_ You know why, _ says a tiny voice in my mind. _ You haven’t seen him in five long years, you tell yourself you’re better off without him in your life, and the moment he invites you on a trip to Europe, you jump the gun. You’re helpless, you know? _

“Shut up," I mutter under my breath.

“What did you say?” asks Thor.

I wave it off. “Nothing.” 

So, here I am. On a plane to Norway with a bag of human ashes tucked between my sweatshirts and boxers somewhere inside my luggage, side by side with my brother. _ Adopted brother _.

I spare a side glance at Thor. He is skipping through the offer of movies on the little monitor on the back of the seat in front of him. He absentmindedly brushes his hand through his freshly cut beard and smiles. He really looks worn-out. A strain of hair has fallen loose and into his face, and I catch myself just in time before I can reach out to stroke it back behind his ear. I pretend to take a look at the watch on my wrist instead. With my heart racing and heat creeping up my neck I force myself to look at the window afterwards. 

Gods, why is this so _ difficult _? It apparently isn’t for Thor, who voiced his invitation to this trip with such honest excitement that I didn’t even have a chance to turn him down. He can’t possibly have forgotten what happened five years ago, can he? Yet here he is, all cheers and jokes and friendly pats on the back, while I’m halfway drowning in these feelings that just seem to pop back into place like they never went away in the first place.

_ Sentiment. _Sneering, I lean back in my seat and watch the clouds floating by underneath us.

Why am I here? What was I even attempting to do two months ago when I agreed to come along on this trip? There’s literally _ nothing _ for me to gain here. 

_ You could pretend you’re just doing this to fulfill your father’s dying wish, _ says the tiny voice in the back of my mind slyly. I almost snort at the suggestion. 

I sigh and prop my head up against the wall next to the window. This is going to be a _ long _ flight.

It’s funny how time bends in relation to what you’re experiencing. The happy moments seem to speed up so fast that they’re gone the next minute, and when you try to remember them, it’s all a blur.

Pain, on the other hand… Well, pain is a totally different chapter. Pain tends to stretch moments to infinity and beyond, almost to an extent where it’s impossible to tell where it begins and where – or even _ if _ – it will end.

The summer of the year I turned eighteen was the _ worst summer _ of my life. Bad things happened afterwards, but this summer was the epitome of horror. It was my last summer at home before finally leaving for college. It was the year I had realized I was hopelessly in love with my brother.

It was the summer my mother died.

\---

**New York City, 2007, summer**

He had locked himself in the attic. He always did when he was feeling upset. When he needed somewhere to go, he always chose the attic, even over his own room. The crowdedness, the memories that clung to all the things stowed away up here, the _smell_ – it all made him feel small and welcome. The Christmas decorations that he, his mother, and Thor put up on every first day of December. The kites he and his brother used to fly every autumn when they were little. His first bike. Thor’s first basketball. Their parents’ winter coats. All this familiarity pulled him into a tight embrace of love and happiness. Yes, the attic was his _special_ _place_. The attic felt _safe_.

Through the trapdoor with the foldaway ladder, Loki could hear his brothers muffled voice from the first floor down below. The rope used to pull down the door was strung in a loop through two aligned drill holes in the wood. If you pulled one end of the rope in from above till the little knob at the end hit the door, no one from below would be able to reach it and lower the ladder. He had made this discovery at the age of six, when he was trying to get back at his nuisance of a brother Thor, who had eaten some of his Halloween candy without permission and was desperately trying to apologize.

Throughout the years he had used this little trick quite often when he was trying to shut out everything and everyone. Of course, he simply could have locked himself up in his room. But then his mother or Thor would simply wait outside and keep talking through the door when all he wanted was _ silence _. Here in the attic, with the rope pulled up, there was no talking. No knocking on the door. No halfhearted excuses and no demands.

Loki looked out the circular window next to his seat amidst a pair of moving boxes and winter clothing he’d formed into an improvised chair. His fingers picked at the wooden paneling while he frowned and stared into the nothingness beyond the stained glass. How long could he get away with staying up here? He knew he had to come down and join the others eventually. They were probably already wondering where he went.

This was all Thor’s fault. What was he thinking, bringing this girl here without a proper warning?

_ He probably didn’t think at all. He’s Thor, after all _. A bitter little huff escaped Loki’s lips and he hugged his knees to his chest. Why was he even this upset about it? It would have happened sooner or later. Thor had had half of the high school’s girls crushing on him, and he’d always been a pretty easygoing guy in general. The question of him finding a girlfriend had always seemed only a matter of time.

_ But why _ now _ out of all possible times? _ The thought came with an angry rush that spread hot and fast through his stomach. _ He hasn’t been home _ once _ since Christmas, even ditched the spring break family vacation to go partying with his friends, and now… _ Now _ he’s finally returned for summer and the first thing he thinks about isn’t mom, or dad, or me – no, it’s bringing his fucking new _ girlfriend _ home with him. _

“And he doesn’t even look like he’s fucking sorry about it," he tells the little stuffed frog plush sitting below the window. It used to be Thor’s, and before his brother had left for college he had kept it on the shelf above his bed. Loki had won it at a fair a few years ago when he had managed to hit a bull’s eye three times in a row at a stall. He had gifted the frog to his brother later that night. “If you suddenly turned into a frog, this is definitely what you’d look like. Look, it even has your stupid complexion down cold.” Thor had acted offended at that comment, but had kept the plushy anyway. Now it was covered in dust and one of the big plastic eyes dangled loosely on a thread. It seemed to look back at Loki with sympathy.

Was this really how his last summer at home was going to be?

Someone was calling his name from below. Thor.

“Go away," he called back.

“C’mon. Just get the ladder down.” Then, after a brief pause Thor added, “I wanna talk.”

Furious and with a knot tied at the back of his throat, Loki crawled over to the trap door and pushed it open. Down below in the hallway Thor looked up at him, frowning.

“What part of _ go away _ did you not get?”

“The part where you suddenly left the kitchen and disappeared without another word. Now get down here.”

Loki gave him an annoyed look. “You’re the one who wants to talk. So you can either come up here. Or. Get. Lost.” He emphasized the last three words and ducked back into the attic. The squeaking of the wooden steps announced that his brother had decided for the former. He heard Thor mumble something about Mohammed going to the mountain before a blond mop of hair appeared. Thor ducked away under the beams of the roof and crawled towards Loki. When he dropped down opposite his brother he looked equally annoyed.

“So, spill," he said, maybe a little out of breath.

“Spill what?” Loki didn’t even look at him. Instead, he began to pick at the paneling again with his fingers.

“You know what I mean. Tell me why you’re acting so weird.”

“Oh, am I?” was all he got for an answer.

Thor sighed. “Loki…”

“I said _ go away _!” Loki snapped back.

“I thought you’d be glad to see me. It’s been months.”

At this, Loki’s head snapped back around and he glared at Thor. “Yeah," he said in a sharp, quiet voice. “And whose fault is that?”

Thor looked taken aback. Then his expression began to soften. “So you’re still mad that I didn’t come home for spring break?”

“No.” Loki faced the window again. The knot in his throat had relocated to his stomach.

“Look, I’m sorry," Thor began, his voice as soft as the look in his eyes, “But Fanderal invited us over to his parents’ lake house.”

Loki didn’t say anything. He couldn’t care less about college friends or lake houses.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” continued Thor. “We can catch up now.”

“Well, I’m so glad you could squeeze me into your schedule.”

“Why are you making this difficult?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Loki snipped, his tone infuriated. “Maybe that’s just the way I am.”

Thor rolled his eyes and let his head fall back against a roof beam. It hit the wood with a loud thud. “Okay. This is getting us _ nowhere _. I already said I’m sorry. Next spring I’m all yours, I promise.”

“**I DON’T CARE ABOUT THE DAMN SPRING BREAK!**”

Thor flinched at his outburst. Wide blue eyes stared at him in shock.

“I don’t care about the spring break," he repeated, his tone dangerously low this time. There was a moment of silence between them before Loki asked, “Why did you bring her here?”

His brother looked confused at first. Then it seemed to dawn on him. “So that’s the reason you’re so upset? Because I brought Sif home?”

“We were supposed to go hiking the day after tomorrow," Loki said instead of answering the question.

“I thought she could join us. She’s fun. You two will get along just great.”

“And it didn’t cross your mind _ once _ to ask me about what I thought of that? If I even _ wanted _ her to come along?”

Thor’s frown deepened. “Honestly, I didn’t even think you wanted to go hiking in the first place. You’ve been complaining about it ever since we decided to go to Maine this year. About how muddy the path would get, about the rain and the cold, about sleeping on the ground and how you pulled your back last year lugging that backpack. So I thought if you didn’t want to go anyway, I could just do the trail with Sif.”

Loki stared at him in disbelief. “I’m that easily replaced then?” he asked, his stomach free falling into a bottomless pit.

“That’s not what I said.” Now his brother sounded frustrated. Loki couldn’t bring himself to care. Instead, he got up and headed towards the trap door.

“No," he said. “But it’s what you think. Don’t worry. I won’t bother you with my ranting anymore.”

“Loki…”

“Just fuck off!” And with that, he was at the ladder and out of the attic.

\---

It turned out that sleeping while throwing a tantrum in his head was out of the question. All Loki had done all night was toss and turn in his sheets, replaying the fight with Thor over and over in his mind, each time coming up with worse and worse things to throw at his brother. He didn’t know why he was riling himself up so much. It wasn’t as if this was the first time Thor had fucked up. And up until now they had always found a way to compromise. They never stayed angry at each other for longer than a few hours.

But somehow, this was different. Loki couldn’t seem to get his head around the fact that his brother was willing to replace him with someone else. 

_ Maybe it’s because she has boobs, _ said a tiny voice in his head. He let his hand trail to his own chest, then mentally kicked himself. Where had that come from? Why would this have anything to do with Thor’s bodily attraction to him. He pressed his palms to his eyes and groaned. Apparently the lack of sleep had him teetering on the edge of his sanity.

When morning came, Loki padded down to the kitchen. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one who had gotten up early. There at the kitchen table sat his father, already in his suit and tie, and Sif, who wore running clothes. Her black hair was pulled up into a long ponytail. They were chatting quietly, and to Loki’s bewilderment, his father gave her one of his rare smiles.

He would have turned on his heels immediately, but Odin had already spotted him in the doorway.

“Good morning, son," he greeted him in his usual calm voice. “We missed you at dinner yesterday.”

“I wasn’t feeling particularly hungry last night," he answered. He didn’t return the smile Sif gave him, instead going over to the counter to pour himself a cup of coffee.

He could feel his father’s stern gaze at his back.

“I see. Well, I’m off to work now. Take care of your mother today. She came down with another one of those headaches this morning.”

Loki turned around, his brow furrowed. “Again?”

His father nodded. “I’ll call around lunch time, to see how she fares.” Odin turned to leave for the door, hesitated for a moment, and then added towards his son: “Behave.”

Loki didn’t dignify that last comment with a response, but rolled his eyes in annoyance. He took a sip of his coffee and made a mental note to fetch some aspirin and a glass of water for his mother on the way back to his room.

“He’s quite charming, your father, you know?”

And here he had almost forgotten he wasn’t alone in the room. He closed his eyes and relaxed the tension in his shoulders, bracing himself before he turned around to face his brother’s girlfriend. Now that he had the time to examine her more closely, he understood why Thor had taken an interest in her. She was quite pleasing to look at with her long, black hair, the light tan and a very symmetrical face. Her brown eyes looked back at him, smiling, but with the kind of insecurity that came with trying to make a new acquaintance. After a brief pause, he gave her his brightest smile, the one that did not quite reach his eyes.

“So, you’re a runner?” He gestured towards her outfit.

“Oh, yeah.” The look in her eyes grew more confident. “I took a run right after I got up. I wanted to preempt the heat. The weather forecast said that we’ll hit 100 degrees around noon. When I got back, your father was already up. He made me coffee.” She pointed to the cup in front of her.

“Thor didn’t go with you?” Loki asked, trying for a casual tone.

Sif stirred her coffee. “No. He’s probably still asleep. He wasn’t feeling so well last night and went to bed early.”

Loki felt a little twist in his chest at that. So their little fight hadn’t left Thor completely unaffected after all. He pulled out a chair on the other side of the table and sat down. “Yeah," he said. “It’s probably for the best to let him sleep. It never ends well if you wake him up.” A little spark of mischief flickered to life in his mind and he added, “He’s dumped people for less.”

Sif’s smile faded. He could almost hear her thoughts. She was turning the cup in her hands absentmindedly. When she spoke again, she avoided his gaze. “He told me, he’s never been in a relationship before.”

Hook, line, and sinker. “Yeah, that’s right. I was talking about his flings. He made one of them cry because her snoring woke him up.” None of this was true, of course. He took another sip. 

“I’m glad he’s got you now, you know?” he continued in the most sincere voice he could manage. “He seems far more relaxed around you. More mature even.” When she looked back at him with a sweet, trusting joy in her eyes, he delivered the final blow.

“Father appears pleased, too. It finally puts an end to the pussy parade at his front door.”

There was a loud clunk as the spoon in Sif’s hand fell into the cup. Loki didn’t need to look up to know she was staring at him. Maybe this morning wasn’t so bad after all. He got up from the chair, clapped his hands and asked cheerfully, “But I’m a terrible host. You must be starving! Would you like some pancakes?”

\---

When his mother didn’t respond to his soft knocking, Loki pushed the door to his parent’s bedroom open as quietly as he could. Frigga was lying on the divan, one arm placed on her forehead, half covering her eyes. The blinds were closed and only a small crack let in some of the light from the outside. 

“Mother?” he asked softly, carrying a small tray in his hands. He couldn’t tell whether she was asleep or just resting her eyes. He set the tray down on a table beside the couch. Placed on it were a glass of water, a bowl with a wet cloth, and two aspirin pills. He had thought about bringing her some breakfast, but she never felt hungry when she came down with a migraine. 

“Loki? Is that you?” She still hadn’t moved, but in the half light he could see her eyes blinking at him from underneath her arm. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost eleven o’clock.”

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess again," she said, the faintest of smiles on her lips. 

“Don’t be," he said. “It’s alright. How are you feeling?”

“Like I got run over by a brick wall," she answered with a weak smile. “How are the three of you getting along?” 

_ Straight to the point as always _, he thought. “We’re fine, mom.”

“I can tell when you’re lying to me, you know?”

Loki sighed. When she patted the divan next to her, he sat down, careful not to disturb her.

“You don’t like her.”

“I don’t _ know _her,” Loki corrected. 

“Well," Frigga said softly, “You’re not exactly trying to get to know her, now are you? You didn’t even show up for dinner yesterday.” 

“Maybe I would be a little more interested to make her acquaintance if I had known about her existence _ before _ she simply materialized in our home yesterday.” He massaged the knuckle of his left index finger. “Thor didn’t bring it up _ once _ when he called. And then he just brought her here without checking if it was okay in the first place and-“

His mother interrupted him. “Oh, he did check in.”

“_ What _?”

“Thor asked if he could bring Sif along when he called me two weeks ago," Frigga said plainly. She shifted a bit so she could look at him. “I told him it was fine.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Loki asked, not sure how to feel about this news.

“I thought it was something that you needed to hear from Thor, not from me.”

“Well," Loki huffed. “He didn’t tell me anything.” He felt his mother’s hand rubbing soothing circles on his back. 

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset.” His protest sounded weak even to his own ears. He reached over to the table for the water and the pills. “Here," he said, handing them to his mother. “Are you still feeling tired? Father said he’d call around lunchtime to check in on you.”

She took the pills from his hand and swallowed them. Then she reached for the glass too, but the moment Loki let go of it, her hand spasmed and it fell down onto the carpet. The glass didn’t break, but the water spilled all over the floor, part of it splashing against his bare feet. 

“Oh," Frigga breathed. “I’m so sorry, darling. I don’t know what-“

He took her shaking hand in his. “It’s alright. It’s just water. I’ll go and get you another glass.”

While he was refilling the glass under the sink in the bathroom attached to his parent’s bedroom, he noticed that his heart was racing. _ Don’t be stupid _ , he scolded himself. _ She’s just tired, and the lack of sleep is making her muscles weak. That’s all. No need to panic. _But the tingling worry at the bottom of his stomach didn’t fade.

He found his brother and Sif in the living room preparing for their departure the next day. The sight of them packing equipment and food into two enormous backpacks, all the while laughing and making goo-goo eyes at each other, made Loki want to vomit. He turned on his heels and was almost out of the room again when he noticed a third backpack leaning on the side of the couch. He felt his heart sink. The bag looked as if it had been purchased only recently. He had torn the bottom of his own bag during their trip last year and had made makeshift repairs so he would be able to use it for another hike. 

Eventually, Thor noticed him standing in the doorway and looking at the backpack. “I bought you a new one," he declared and gave Loki an uncertain smile. “Yours is at the end of its tether.” Thor stepped around the couch and picked up the bag. “I wanted to give it to you yesterday, but…” He trailed off.

For some reason, that last unfinished sentence made Loki incredibly furious. He clenched his hands and turned to face his brother who was still smiling at him. “And what," he scoffed, “makes you think I’m going to join you on this trip?”

Sif, who had been watching the scene, suddenly seemed very invested in folding her clothes and stuffing them into her bag. Thor’s face grew serious. He lowered the new backpack he was holding out for Loki and tried to capture his brother’s gaze. But Loki turned back towards the door. “Someone needs to look after mom.”

“What do you mean? It’s just another migraine," Thor said, frustration filling his voice. “It’ll be over in a day or so anyway.”

“Well, if you say so it must be true, then. After all, you know everything, don’t you?” He hadn’t meant to say that. It had just slipped out of his mouth before he could catch himself.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Thor’s tone was angry now, too. There was a sudden tension in the air between them, like a shift of temperature in the room, and Sif must have noticed, because she gave a shallow excuse and was out of the room in an instant. Thor’s eyes gleamed. Shoulders tense, he took one step towards Loki, who gave him an irritated frown.

“What the hell is your problem?” asked Thor.

“What’s _ my _ problem?” Loki spat back. “You. You’re my fucking problem. You and this ridiculous hiking trip. Do you really think I want to be the third wheel while you and Xena play lovebirds all the time?” 

Thor’s shoulders dropped and the anger in his expression made way for something else. Was it hurt?

“Loki, I… I’m sorry," he said in a tender voice.

“Stop saying that!” Loki bellowed, on the edge of frustration now. 

A loud crash from above put an end to the exchange. Both startled and turned their eyes towards the ceiling. Then they heard Sif call out for them. Thor sprinted out of the room with Loki following behind in a slow trot. 

When they reached her in the hallway next to the bathroom upstairs, Sif was kneeling beside their mother. Frigga was lying on the ground, shaking and doubled over in cramps, while Sif did her best to hold her down. She looked at Thor, fear in her eyes and said, “She fell and knocked down the vase from the drawer. When I went to help her up, she started having these cramps.”

Loki quickly pushed past his brother and got down beside her, trying to prevent Frigga’s head from hitting the floor while she was still shaking. He looked at Thor and yelled, “Go and get an ambulance.”

Thor, who seemed to have frozen to the spot, eyes wide, mouth dry croaked, “Wh-what’s happening? What’s wrong with her?”

“For fuck’s sake, **CALL AN AMBULANCE**!” Loki all but screamed. That seemed to finally wake Thor from his trance and he sprinted down the hall towards Odin’s study.

\---

The words kept echoing through his mind.

_ Inoperable. Deep. Malignant. Growing fast. _

They circled his thoughts over and over again, becoming faster with each round. One and a half days after the ambulance had rushed their mother to the hospital, the doctors gathered them at Frigga’s hospital bed to discuss the options. Not that they had many. A young neurosurgeon, his name was Dr. Stephen Strange, showed them a radiograph of a perfectly pear-shaped tumor, about the size of a lemon. He rattled off the effects of a cerebral tumor and that its location in Frigga’s brain and the intracranial pressure made it impossible for them to operate. 

_ We’re terribly sorry. _

Loki only managed to sit there on his chair next to the small bedside table and stare at the white sheets covering his mother’s legs. His chest felt strangely numb and hollow, as if someone had scraped out all the internal organs there. He couldn’t bring himself to look at his brother sitting on the opposite side of the bed, looking lost and clenching Sif’s hand so hard it might possibly break. Or at Sif herself sitting there like she had any right to be here at all, like she had any right to hold Thor’s hand. Or at his father, standing at the window, his head down and his back to his family, breathing harder with each word. 

But most of all, Loki didn’t dare to look at his mother who was sitting upright against the pillows, hands folded in her lap and answering to Strange’s explanation in her usual kind and collected manner, asking questions here and there. He knew if he had to meet his mother’s eyes smiling back at him, his currently scraped-out heart would simply be ripped apart. 

“How long do you presume…” Frigga trailed off, but it was clear what she meant to ask anyway. Loki’s throat felt pinhole-thin and he swallowed hard.

“A month. I’m sorry. But at the rate the tumor’s growing… probably less," Strange answered in his smooth baritone. At that, Loki finally looked up and met his brother’s gaze, who was staring back at him. His eyes were as wide as Loki’s, making Thor look like a scared ten-year-old. 

\---

They took turns sitting at Frigga’s bedside during the next week. Loki went first thing in the morning, bringing her flowers and magazines and her needlework. Thor and Sif came in after lunch and kept her company until Odin dropped by after work. Loki made a point of leaving as soon as Thor and Sif arrived. He spent the afternoons at home, occupying himself with simple tasks like cleaning the house or watering the plants in the backyard. The heat was almost unbearable but doing something, _ anything _, seemed to keep his mind from wandering over the edge. 

The nights were more difficult. Tossing and turning around in his bed, while his mind raced a thousand miles an hour and his sweat soaked the sheets. The few hours of sleep that he managed to grab were filled with uneasy dreams of clinical white sheets and his brother’s eyes.

One evening, Loki was flopped down on the living room couch flipping through the TV-channels, when he heard Sif and his brother at the front door, just returning from the hospital. From his place on the couch he could see Thor storming up the staircase without another word. Sif came in shortly after, stopping in her steps when she spotted Loki. 

“Hey," she said, looking a bit uneasy. Loki had barely spoken to her since the morning of that dreadful Saturday a week ago. He had tried to avoid her (and Thor) on any given opportunity and he could tell that she knew.

“Hey," he answered, his tone indifferent. 

“I was thinking about cooking dinner tonight instead of ordering in. You have a preference or something?” She was trying to be civil. Loki couldn’t really bring himself to care.

“I’m not hungry," he said, turning his eyes back to the screen. “What’s up with him?” He made a vague gesture towards the stairs where Thor had disappeared. This question seemed to make her even more uncomfortable. 

“It’s your mother," she answered slowly, looking up at the ceiling and frowning. 

Loki felt his heart sink. “What?”

“She…” Sif began, bringing her eyes down to meet his with a concerned look. “She couldn’t remember Thor’s name today. She called him Todd or Tyr five times. Then she messed up whole sentences. Thor’s pretty devastated.”

He stared at her, heart drumming in his chest. “I see," was all he could say. The doctors had mentioned aphasia as one of the possible side effects. 

That night, Loki didn’t even bother going to bed. He just sat at his window, staring out into the darkness. _ Why can’t I cry? _ he mused. He had felt like crying in the hospital, when Thor had looked at him with fear in his eyes. And on their way back home in his father’s car, where Odin had been silent the whole drive but Loki had seen a tear running a path down his cheek. He had never seen Odin cry before. But despite the burning behind his eyes, Loki’s own tears just didn’t come. 

He heard a soft knocking on his door and a second later Thor stepped into his room. In the half light cast by the streetlights outside the window, Loki could see that he was wearing nothing save for a pair of boxers. The sight did something funny to his stomach.

“Hey," Thor said, closing the door behind him. His voice sounded hoarse and when he stepped closer, Loki could see the deep frown on his brother’s face. “Can’t sleep?”

Loki shook his head in response and turned his gaze outside the window again.

“Me neither.” Thor dropped down on the bed, only a few inches away from his brother. “I tried the attic first. Thought you might be up there.”

“It’s too hot.”

Thor gave a small laugh. “Yeah, I figured that out an instant later.” 

Silence followed that statement. Loki could hear him ruffling through his long hair and felt a knot beginning to tie itself in his belly. A year ago, Thor would have dropped down right beside his brother on the floor. He would have ran his fingers through strands of raven hair instead of his own and his big, strong hand would have found it’s resting place against Loki’s neck. 

He clenched his jaw at the memory. Now Thor had gone and gotten himself another neck to hold onto. “You smell of sex," Loki informed him, still facing the window. 

Thor’s sigh was filled with frustration. “Can you stop that?”

“Stop what?”

“Can you stop acting like this? Shutting me out. You’re mad at me but I don’t know _ why _! And you won’t tell me!”

Loki huffed but didn’t respond. The knot in his belly tightened.

“See? This is what I mean. I cannot _ bear _ this anymore. Mom’s sick, dad’s withdrawn himself from everything and everyone, and you won’t even fucking _ look _ at me anymore.” There was a small rustling and Thor scooted down the side of the bed and onto the floor next to Loki. When he reached out his hand, Loki backed away from the touch, finally turning his head to glare at Thor.

“Do you think," he said in a low voice, “that you’re the only hurt party in this?”

Thor furrowed his brow in return. “No," he said, sounding irritated. “That’s why I keep asking you what’s wrong.” He let out another long sigh. Then, his tone softened. “I used to always know what you were thinking. Now I feel like we’re miles apart. What happened?”

“Leave me alone.”

“Is this about me and Sif?”

“No. This is about you being a dickhead and not leaving me in peace!” Loki almost yelled that last part.

“She forgot my name today!” Thor yelled back. Loki flinched. They stared at each other for a moment before Thor continued, quieter this time, his voice on the edge of breaking. “She couldn’t remember my name. She just sat there and smiled and she couldn’t remember my fucking name.” 

Then his face crumpled and the next thing Loki knew, he was being crushed by his brother’s ridiculously wide shoulders, flat on the floor, wrapped up in two strong arms that clung to him like he was their lifeline, and Thor was sobbing into his neck. When his first state of shock wore off, he managed to wriggle his arms free, letting them hover above his brothers back for a moment, uncertain how to react. Then he hugged Thor back, his defense shattered and his heart aching more than ever. But Loki still didn’t cry. 

Instead he became painfully aware of their closeness, Thor’s skin touching his own and the heat his brother was radiating. His hot, shuddering breath hit Loki’s throat, the wetness of tears on his left shoulder and a smell of sweat, sunscreen and, well, simply Thor in his nose. 

Having his brother all crushed up against him made his stomach flip with that funny feeling again. What was wrong with him? He never used to get so jittery from his brother’s physical affection. Thor had always been a hugger, after all. _ Maybe it’s because we spent so much time apart _, he mused.

_ Then why did you think he looked hot when he walked into your room shirtless? _ the tiny voice in his head asked derisively.

_ I did not! _

_ You did. _

_ Shut up! _Shaking his head slightly to try and get rid of the thought he noticed that Thor’s sobbing had calmed down. He was now breathing very heavily against Loki’s collar bone. When Loki shifted to free himself from the hug, Thor clenched his shoulders to hold him down.

“Please don’t make me leave," he whispered. 

The breath against his ear made Loki shudder and gave him goosebumps. Loki sighed, but nodded eventually and slumped back down against the floor. Thor gave him another little squeeze, meant as a thank-you, probably.

“I’m sorry," Thor said after a while. “It probably wasn’t my best idea to bring Sif here out of the blue.”

Loki felt his anger flare back to life. “Thor," he said before his voice could grow all irritated again, “If you really expect me to spend the night on the floor, pooled by your sweat and half mad from the heat, I suggest you shut up this instant.”

He felt Thor inhale sharply, but his brother remained silent afterwards. 

\---

Hunger. That’s the only thing he feels. 

He’s sitting in the hallway outside his mother’s hospital room. The light from the lamps above his head reflects on the white walls and it’s so bright it burns his eyes. Thor is sitting on the chair next to his own, arms resting on his knees and face buried in his hands.

There’s a door there on the wall opposite them. He recognizes it instantly because he’s been walking in and out of it daily for almost two weeks now. The door is halfway open. Behind it, in his mother’s hospital room, he can see the end of her bed. It’s vacant, the sheets neatly folded.

Fear pierces his heart and his stomach growls loudly. He turns towards his brother.

_ Where’s mother _, he wants to ask. But when he opens his mouth to speak, what he says instead is, “Why am I so hungry?”

And Thor lifts his head and turns to look at him. His eyes are wide – _ so wide _ – and he looks back at him and says in a calm voice, “You’re hungry because you haven’t eaten.”

Now that Thor is saying this, he can remember. Yes, he hasn’t eaten all day. He hadn’t eaten yesterday either. And his hunger grows by the second, creeping from his stomach up his throat. It hasn’t been fed in centuries and he needs to feed it _ now _.

“I’m so hungry," he says.

“Then eat," answers Thor and holds up one arm. 

He sinks his teeth into Thor’s flesh and begins to eat. Chewing, swallowing, tearing out whole chunks of skin, and muscle, and bone. A rush of prickly satisfaction vibrates through him and settles deep down in his core. The hunger inside him roars and he keeps feeding it. Feeds it with his brother’s flesh, and blood, and bone, and his body rejoices and echoes Thor’s name with every cell and every fiber. There is no taste to his brother’s flesh – only the feeling of resounding relief. The relief of finally – _ finally _ – being fed. Every bite is pleasure in itself, accompanied by pure and serene want. The want for _ more _.

“What about me?” Sif asks next to them suddenly. “I’m hungry, too.”

“He is my brother," Thor tells her. “I cannot let him starve.”

When the arm is gone, Thor offers him his chest. “Eat," he tells him again. There, kept safe under the muscles and ribs he knows, his brother’s heart is beating. He can feel Thor’s pulse under his fingers like living electricity. When he looks up, his brother’s wide blue eyes are staring back at him, devouring him in their own kind of hunger. 

He trails his hand down Thor’s chest, following the rhythm of the beat below. _ That _ , his hunger tells him _ , is what we crave. That is what will fill us. Eat! Eat! _

And so he does.

\---

With his heart racing and a silent scream trapped in the back of his throat, Loki woke up. He would have bolted upright had he not been pinned down by something heavy. Disoriented, he turned his head to discover Thor, still clinging to him, not crying now but sleeping – with both arms still intact.

Panting, Loki let his head fall back onto the floor. Just a dream. “What the fuck, brain?” he muttered, heaving. 

It was still dark, but outside the window he could make out a faint touch of purple, so they couldn’t be far from sunrise.

As Loki caught his breath and his pulse slowed down towards its normal pace, memories of the dream flashed before his inner eye. Thor’s impossibly wide eyes. His heartbeat. And the ecstatic feeling when his teeth sank deep into Thor’s flesh. Where had that come from? 

The air smelled of salt, skin, and sweat, mingling in the air. But underneath all that, there was something that simply smelled like home to him. That had always smelled like home since he could remember. It was his brother’s earthy scent that reminded him of rain on sun-warmed ground. A few days ago, when he had felt particularly wistful, Loki had snuck into his brother’s room for a little while and bathed in the faint smell of him. Afterwards he had dug through the drawers and taken one of Thor’s shirts to wear. It made him feel less lonely and homesick. Now he inhaled deeply, finding himself more satisfied with the intensity.

Thor moved his left arm in his sleep, his hand falling just above Loki’s hip bone and a tingling sensation spread from there through Loki’s belly, a treacherous warmth coiling in his lower regions. _ Oh _, he thought and tried to wriggle himself free from the touch. His movements woke Thor, who blinked at him in confusion.

“What?” he mumbled squinting his eyes at Loki. “What time is it...” Then he noticed the erection pressing against his arm. 

“S-sorry," Loki wheezed, trying to shove his brother away. He felt his face starting to burn. “I, ah- I just need to…”

But Thor, apparently still half asleep, had already sunken back against him, pinning Loki to the ground again. “‘s alright," he murmured against Loki’s collarbone, sending a shiver down his brother’s spine. “Not like you’ve never caught _ me _ building a tent early in the morning.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better _ how _, exactly?” Loki huffed, his cheeks still burning red. “Come on, get off me, you oaf!” He hit his brother in the side with his fist, hard. Thor flinched and grabbed his wrist.

“Just a few more minutes," he mumbled, holding onto Loki’s hand tightly. “Please.”

“You’re kidding me.” Loki’s irritation grew with every second. “What is wrong with you?”

“I just haven’t had my share of you since I returned," Thor answered matter-of-factly. Loki felt his heart speed up at the words, but he pushed it down and reached for the familiar anger instead.

“And whose fault is that?”

“Well, I’m not the one that practically fled the room the moment I came home and locked myself away in the attic," Thor murmured, a yawn on his lips.

“But you’re certainly the one who brought a stranger back without warning.”

“I just wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Yeah," Loki couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice completely, “What a brilliant surprise. I mean, what were you even thinking, bringing her here, wanting to take her hiking with us and not telling me in advance?” He wriggled again, his uneasiness growing with every second. “Let me up," he demanded, shoving at Thor. 

Thor finally gave in and rolled off to the side and onto his back. He eyed Loki with raised eyebrows. “You going to take care of that?” he asked, gesturing toward Loki’s still very present erection.

“Oh my god, **get out**!” Loki felt his cheeks burning again. He all but jumped to his feet, ignoring his numb legs and bringing as much space between him and Thor as the measures of his room allowed. “Just leave.”

Thor sat up, but didn’t follow the order right away. Instead he crooked his head and squinted at him through the morning’s half light. “Why are you acting so weird all of a sudden?”

“Why do _ you _ insist on making this even more embarrassing than it already is?” Loki spat back.

“No," Thor said, struggling to stand. “What I meant is that you’ve shut me out ever since I came back. You shy away from every hug, every glance… What happened? We used to be practically joined at the hip, why-”

“_ Just leave _," Loki repeated, whispering this time. He pulled the door open and waited next to it in silence. 

Thor frowned at him for a moment. Then, he sighed and said, “Alright,” before padding past him into the hallway.

Loki closed the door after him and sank against it with weak knees. He shut his eyes and exhaled, feeling both relieved and disappointed, although he couldn’t have said why. When he moved next, he felt his still hard cock rubbing against his boxers and groaned with frustration. What was wrong with him? First that dream and now… this. 

_ Relax _ , he told himself. _ This is a totally common and normal reaction of your body. You’ve had lots of these in the mornings when you first hit puberty, remember? This is totally unrelated to the dream. Or to your brother. _

_ Yeah _ , the tiny voice in his head responded. _ Totally unrelated. If you say so. _

“Oh, shut up," he muttered.

\---

It had been his own fault, really. Had Loki not gone through the papers and documents in the cabinet in his father’s study, he wouldn’t have found out. Yeah, well, maybe _ someday _ he would’ve found out; someday in the far off future, when he and Thor would have had to administer their late parents’ estate and go through these papers anyway. Until that day, he could’ve lived in sweet oblivion. 

Even when he had been elbows deep in the cabinet, raiding it for photographs and other memorabilia of his childhood and his mother, he could have just skipped through all the papers without reading their contents and everything would’ve been just fine. But of course, he had to look.

Loki had been feeling wrung out that day, ever since he’d thrown his brother out of his room. He’d debated taking care of his little problem for a whole minute, before grabbing a box of Kleenex from his desk. He had tried not to let his mind wander but found it nearly impossible to keep it from going back to his dream and the absolutely ecstatic feeling of fulfillment that echoed through his memory.

When it had been time to visit his mother, he had found her hospital bed empty. Trying to shake the panic that was slowly building in his intestines at seeing the vision of his dream mirrored in real life, he had practically jumped the next nurse he could find. She had told him that they had taken Frigga for another MRI scan and a few more examinations that would last until late afternoon. Loki, not feeling much in the mood for another flood of bad news just yet (deep down he knew that there would be nothing but bad news from now on), had returned home, feeling incredibly hollow and disconnected from everything and everyone. He had done his best to avoid Sif and his brother – after two weeks he had become really good at that. But as the day passed by, the feeling of detachment had grown, filling his head and heart with a weird sensation of emptiness.

In a desperate attempt to connect to himself again – or anything at all, for that matter – Loki had remembered a picture his father had shot of his family on their vacation to Norway about ten years ago and gone hunting for it in the study upstairs. Back then, Odin had wanted to show his home country to his wife and his sons, taking them hiking at Jotunheimen National Park. They had spent one of their best summers there. The photograph in question showed an eleven-year-old Thor and an eight-year-old Loki in trunks, grinning, standing side by side knee-deep in a crystal clear lake and splashing water at their laughing mother sitting on the shore. 

Loki knew he had seen the photo last sitting on his father’s desk. It had been replaced by a picture of their family at Thor’s high school graduation, and surely Odin must have tucked it away to be placed in one of their many photo albums later.

What he had found instead was an official-looking paper whose letterhead gave it away as an adoption certificate from the New York Orphan Asylum. It had his name on it.

Now, two agonizingly long hours later, he was standing at the kitchen table where his father had sat down after returning home from work, and he watched closely as Odin regarded the paper that Loki had slammed on the desk.

Loki could hear the humming of his pulse in his head and tried to keep his breathing under control as his eyes watched Odin slowly look back up at him. The expression on the old man’s face was unreadable. They stared at each other for a long moment. Then, Odin began to speak.

“So, you’ve found out.” A simple statement, not a question. Spoken in the usual calm and distanced tone that gave away nothing about his thoughts or feelings, except for a very tiny tremor at the last syllable. Loki just stared at him.

“Is that everything you have to say about this?” he asked, his hand on the table now starting to tremble. When Odin reached out to touch it, he ripped his hand away, taking a step back. 

His voice was almost a whisper now. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“My son," Odin began, “Please, listen to-”

“NO!” Loki burst out, cutting him off mid-sentence. “You listen to me. Seventeen years. Seventeen years you had the chance to say something. To tell me that you aren’t my real father. You didn’t. Tell me why you didn’t!” He had tears in his eyes.

“We wanted to protect you," Odin started again. His eyes, too, looked more watery than usual.

“Protect me? From what? From the shame of being a son without a father?”

“Loki, that’s not what this is about-”

“Oh? Then what is this about?” His rage made the edges of his vision start to blur. Then a thought hit him hot and sharp like a blow to the gut. “Does Thor know?”

“Do I know what?”

Loki turned around. With his back to the door he hadn’t noticed his brother stepping into the kitchen. Thor regarded the scene before him with furrowed brows. He carried a grocery bag and over his shoulder Loki could see Sif peeking into the room, concern on her face.

Maybe her presence was what became the last straw. The unexpected visitor, Frigga’s tumor, the sleep-deprived night on the hard floor in his room. The dream. And now there she was, the reason this whole summer had gone to shits, standing in the doorway, listening in as if she had any right to be involved in this at all.

Loki reached out, grabbed the certificate from the table and threw it at Thor, who caught it, obviously confused. Then Loki turned on his heels, rushed out the backdoor leading from the kitchen out into the backyard and ran.

\---

**A plane somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, 2019, autumn**

A hand on my elbow shakes me out of my thoughts. It’s Thor’s (of course it’s Thor’s), and as my eyes follow up his arm and settle on his face, he crooks a smile at me that wrinkles the skin around his eyes. My stomach does a tiny little flip at the sight.

“There you are," Thor says in a low voice. “I was worried you’d died or something. You haven’t said a word since the take-off.”

I blink, feeling a bit disoriented. The lights in the cabin have been dimmed, and some of the other passengers are already asleep. To my relief the wailing from earlier has stopped, which means that the baby’s parents must’ve either finally agreed to strangle their offspring for the sake of the greater good, or even Satan’s children need sleep every now and then.

I turn my attention back to Thor, who’s still staring at me with an expression I cannot quite fathom. “Well," I say, “as you can see, I’m still very much alive.”

Thor’s gaze drops down to my lips for the tiniest of moments. Then his eyes flicker back up to meet mine. “Where have you been?” he asks me, still smiling.

“I, uh..” I stammer, not quite sure how to answer that question. “I just thought about mother.” Not quite true, but also not a complete lie either.

“Oh.” Thor’s smile drops a little. He shifts his eyes to his hands, worrying at them. He sometimes does that when he’s nervous. Not as much as mother used to, though. Not as much as I do, either.

“She left us too early," Thor says eventually. His voice sounds a little hoarse. He wipes at his eyes then looks back at me, the corners of his mouth forced upwards into a half-smile. “They both did.”

His grief mirrors mine, though I guess there might be a slight difference in its intensity. And although I’ve gotten used to it over the years, I still find it kind of unsettling not feeling the slightest urge to cry...

There’s the usual rush, the knot in my throat, sometimes even the burning sensation behind my eyes. But I simply do not cry. I hadn’t cried at mother’s funeral, not at Odin’s, and even now I still can’t cry at the sight of my brother’s pain. Maybe there’s something fundamentally wrong with me, or maybe I’m just the most heartless person in the world. I don’t know. I just sit here, awkwardly patting Thor’s arm, feeling miserable.

\---

**New York City, 2007, summer**

To say that Loki was feeling miserable was an understatement. Frankly, besides the shards of glass that somehow had found their way into his chest, clicking and cutting with every heartbeat, his stomach simply wanted to lose all of its contents (which it did, eventually, in an alleyway). The rest of him simply felt numb. After roaming the streets of the city rather aimlessly for two hours, he had lost track of where he was going when the sun began to set, and by midnight his feet had led him halfway across town and right to the hospital.

Visiting hours had been long over, of course and Loki didn’t really feel like going up to his mother’s room at the moment anyway. He didn’t even know why he was here in the first place. His head was spinning, thoughts running constant circles in his mind and the ache in his heart just grew nearly unbearable when he looked at the warm, welcoming light shining from the entrance doors. He desperately wanted to go in there, find his mother and crawl into her arms, where he could be eight years old again – small and loved and unsuspecting.

_ But she’s not your mother _.

He cried out in frustration and spun around, heading in the opposite direction. There was a playground right next to the building, where patients could play outside with their children. It had a slide, a pair of swings and an enormous sandbox complete with a rainbow-colored jungle gym.

Since his feet hurt and the walk around the city hadn’t really helped to ease the restlessness in his bones, he didn’t feel like going anywhere and climbed the jungle gym and lay flat on his back on the little platform on top. It was a clear night and the heat of the day hadn’t really passed yet. There was only a warm breeze and the sky was full of stars. Loki just lay there, staring off into the darkness and trying to steady his breathing.

Another hour passed before he heard a familiar voice calling out for him.

“There you are!”

Loki didn’t look up. He didn’t even move. A few moments later, the jungle gym started to shake as Thor climbed up.

“I’ve been searching for you all across town. I already came by twice, hoping you’d be here. What were you thinking?”

Loki pushed up on his elbows, frowning. “What was I think-” But then, he saw Thor’s face, illuminated by a streetlight across the playground. He looked like a mess. His eyes were red and puffy and sweat stuck strands of his hair to his face and neck. “Have you been crying?” Loki asked, a little thrown off track.

“I couldn’t find you," was all the response he got. Thor pushed himself up on the platform. “Move.”

“Leave me alone.”

“No.” Thor glared at him – a pretty impressive sight, considering the puffy eyes. “I just spent five hours running around town looking for you and worrying myself sick. Move!”

Loki obliged and scooted to the side so Thor had enough room to flop down beside him. They lay there in silence for a moment and he could hear Thor catching his breath.

“This doesn’t change anything, you know?” Thor said finally. He didn’t have to explain what _ this _ meant.

Loki huffed. He felt the knot in his throat tie again. “This changes everything," he said, his voice low. “This…” he gestured vaguely between them, “everything… it’s just one big lie. Nothing more.”

“It’s not!” Thor protested, catching his hand and turning his head to look at Loki. “You’re my brother and I love you. We were raised together. We played together. A stupid piece of paper doesn’t change that. It won’t just suddenly turn us into strangers.”

Loki yanked his hand free and shot upright. He gripped the front of his shirt, twisting the fabric between his fingers. “No," he said bitterly. “No, you’re right. You’ve already done that.”

Thor sat up beside him. Loki didn’t look at him.

He heard a heavy sigh. Then, Thor said, “Look. I’m sorry.” He scraped the hair at his neck. “I just… I just wish this whole summer had gone differently.”

“What does it matter now?” Loki said softly. “Nothing is as it was anymore anyway.”

“We’re still the same," Thor said. “We’re still family, you and I.”

“Are we?” Loki asked, turning his face towards the sky. His eyes burnt and the shards in his chest where cutting sharp and deep.

“Of course," Thor said, a desperate edge to his voice. He threw an arm around Loki and pulled him into a hug. The familiar hand on his neck and Thor’s scent made Loki feel like they were little children again – like he had fallen off his bike and scratched his knees, and Thor was trying to soothe him and to mitigate the pain. Only that this wasn’t just some scratched knees, and the ache in his heart felt rather as if it was amplified then diminished. Loki wanted nothing more than to push Thor as far away from him as he could, but at the same time, to draw him closer and to never let go again. How was it even possible to feel like that?

“Thor," he mumbled against his brother’s shoulder.

“Let’s go home," Thor said, pulling back and searching for his eyes. “We can talk. All night, if you want. Or we can just sit in the attic. But just…” He breathed in a shaking breath, “Let’s just go home. Please.”

Loki’s stomach twisted at the thought. “I don’t think I can go back there," he said hoarsely.

“Should we go and see mom then?” Thor asked, desperation in his tone.

“It’s the middle of the night. They won’t let us in.” Loki backed away a bit to give himself some space to think. “Go home, Thor. I’ll just stay out here for a little longer.”

“I’m not leaving you.” The stubbornness in his voice made Loki furious. Was there anything that would go through that thick blond skull?

“What about your girlfriend?” he spat, unable to keep calm.

“What about her?” Thor asked back, irritated. “What’s your damn problem with her anyway? She did nothing wrong. Why do you hate her so much?”

“I don’t have a problem with her. I have a problem with you!” And with that, he leapt off the jungle gym and landed sending a little wave of sand flying in every direction. 

Thor jumped right after him, as Loki started to walk towards the street. “Hey," Thor called out, catching his brother’s wrist and pulling him to a stop. “Stop running away from me!”

“I’m not running, I’m walking," Loki hissed, trying to free himself from Thor’s death grip. “Let me go.”

“No!” Thor tugged at his arm again and this time, Loki swung around, his free hand balled into a fist, crashing it against Thor’s jaw. Surprised, Thor let go of his wrist and stumbled backwards. For one heartbeat, they just stood there, staring at each other. Then Thor launched forward, knocking Loki off his feet as they both tumbled to the ground. It was a good thing they were still in the sandbox. They rolled around, each trying to hit, knee, and scratch the other in every place accessible. The burning rage and frustration of the last few weeks chased away his heartache, and in this moment, Loki forgot that he was feeling miserable, betrayed, lost, and worried sick about his mother. All he felt was anger. Anger at Thor. For being an idiot and an oaf and _ not his brother _.

“I hate you!” he yelled at him with every hit he landed. Then he finally managed to spin them around and to pin Thor down beneath him. They were both heaving, looking disheveled with sand smeared all over them. Loki had a bloody nose, Thor a pretty impressive cut just above his right eyebrow. He was crying silently. At the sight of the tears that he couldn’t cry himself, Loki felt something inside him come loose. “_ I hate you _," he whispered again. Then he bent down and pressed his lips against Thor’s. The kiss was hesitant, short and sandy.

\---

They arrived home at 3:55 a.m. They had spent the whole way back in silence. Loki hadn’t officially agreed to return home. After he had pulled away from the kiss, Thor had simply looked up at him, an unreadable expression on his face. Then he had gotten to his feet and simply dragged Loki along with him. Loki hadn’t protested.

Once they arrived, Thor went to the kitchen to get some ice packs for Loki’s nose and the cut on his own face. The house was silent and dark. Odin and Sif must’ve gone to bed. Loki waited in silence on the couch in the living room. His mind felt blank. The feeling of broken glass in his chest had been replaced with a strange hollow nothingness. He couldn’t quite decide what felt worse. Funny how, only a few weeks ago, everything had been completely normal. And now…

The telephone rang and made Loki nearly jump out of his skin. Who the hell was calling them at 4 in the morning?

After the second ring, the realization hit him, hard. It was like an ice cold grip had ensnared his intestines and he felt his heart sink to his knees. Phone calls at this hour usually only meant one thing: emergency. And right now, there was only one emergency he could think of.

A third ring.

A fourth. Loki was to be frozen to the spot.

After the fifth ring, Thor finally picked up the phone on the kitchen counter.

\---

[Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0HoGAkL64w1DLkfAbZy5Sy?si=wk57ayeWRgiObee7qHwCew)

Go listen to [na_shao](https://archiveofourown.org/users/na_shao/pseuds/na_shao)'s beautiful playlist!


	2. Part 2: What's love got to do with it?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Loki finally arrive in Norway and start their trip into the unknown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the views, comments and kudos on the first part! Let‘s hope you enjoy the second one as well!

**Part Two**

**What’s love got to do with it?**

**Somewhere in Norway, 2019, autumn**

We’ve been walking for five hours with only a couple of breaks, when the weather puts an end to our day’s journey. A constant, gusty wind had started when we set off from the hostel this morning and has been a rather unnerving traveling companion ever since. Around half past four the rain starts in a torrential downpour that has us running for cover. We eventually find shelter in a bluff of trees a few feet away from the path. We get soaked anyway.

“We should put up camp,” Thor says after the rain has died down to a light drizzle. Since I feel almost as tired as he looks, I agree.

The two-man tent is set up in a couple of minutes. It’s been years since our last hiking trip, but we work hand in hand well-timed and efficient, like this is something we do every day. By the time we’re finished, the sky has cleared a bit and the rain has stopped completely. Thor suggests building a campfire for the evening. 

“We have a stove,” I remind him while taking off my muddy, dripping boots. 

“The camping stove is for cooking. The campfire is for warmth and the _ aesthetics, _” Thor laughs and plods through the muddy grass back towards the bluff of trees, on the hunt for firewood. 

I catch myself smiling at the sight and try to shake it off immediately. 

_ Don’t do this to yourself again _, I think and duck into the tent. It smells a bit musty inside, probably from all the years of none-use. To keep my mind from thoughts I shouldn’t have, I busy myself with setting up the place to sleep. The new sleeping bag I bought right before the trip smells unused and synthetic. Thor brought his old, worn out one that he’d taken to every single one of our hiking trips. There’s a small sting in my heart while laying it out. Next to it and this tent, my bag looks odd and misplaced.

I tear my eyes away and start to peel off my damp clothes. Searching my backpack for dry ones, my fingers brush against smooth plastic. Our father’s ashes have remained safely concealed within their bag, packed between shirts, socks, and pants. I pull the little bag out to examine it. 

It’s kind of funny how a person you watched walking around, a person who spoke to you, who scolded you, who held you tight when you were a little child and afraid of the dark, that this person, who used to be larger than life, now fits neatly into a zip tied bag of plastic. Death is such a strange concept.

I set the ashes aside to lean against the tent wall opposite the entrance and redress, hanging the wet clothes into the tent’s vestibule to dry. 

“Hey, could you fetch me my Zippo?” Thor calls from outside. Sighing, I crawl over to his bag, expecting the usual chaos on the inside. Thor has never been good at packing. He just stuffs everything inside and hopes the bag closes. To my surprise I find every item, every piece of clothing folded and parceled up properly. This bag looks just like mine. I’m almost too afraid to rummage around in it. 

“Uh, Thor,” I call back, “where exactly did you put it?”

“Somewhere in the big pocket on the front.”

Opening the pocket in question, I see the map and compass we’re using to orienteer, a little jackknife and a few other things. Behind them is the Zippo. Pulling it out, I notice a little purple token behind it and pull it out as well. It has a big 90 engraved in its center, and in a ring around the number it reads ‘_ one day at a time’ _.

This is a sobriety coin. What is a sobriety coin doing in Thor’s backpack? Is he an alcoholic? Why didn’t I know about this?

_ How could you _ , the little voice in my head says. _ You two have been busy not speaking. _

My heart sinks five inches. I left him to himself. I left him alone. 

A picture flashes before my inner eye: _Father, Thor, and I, gathered around mother’s dying bed. Father is crying silently, Thor’s eyes are wide and scared. It makes him look like a little child. Mother’s eyes flicker open now and then. Her breathing is heavy and labored. I hold her hand. It’s ice cold._ _When she speaks it’s with a raspy little whisper. ‘My boys,’ she says. ‘My sweet boys. Take care of each other.’_

The memory hurts so I try to push it away, back into the little box of _ do-not-open _ in a rear part of my mind. What I can’t push away though is the feeling that I’ve failed her.

“What’s taking so long in there? Do you need to build the damn lighter first?” Thor’s laughing voice pulls me out of my thoughts. I put the token into my pocket and climb out of the tent. 

In the meantime, Thor has been diligent and set up a perfect cone of wood around some kindling made of smaller sticks and dry leaves he found in the shelter of the trees to serve as tinder. I hand him the Zippo, and a couple minutes later there‘s a blazing fire coming to life in the fire pit. Thor also found a big log about the size and length of his leg that he carries over for us to sit on.

I drop down next to him, careful to leave a gap between us. The mountain ridge gleams green and red in the setting sun breaking through the clouds. The trees sway softly in the diminishing wind and the rustling of their leaves is calm and soothing. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Thor asks when he notices the look of bliss on my face. I hum in agreement. It really is beautiful. Just like I remember it from our childhood. We only spent one summer here, but it was the best summer we had as a family. At least back then, we _ were _still family. So much’s happened since that one perfect month of vacation, and though I find that my heart longs for the simple happiness of being an eight-year-old on a family trip, I know that I’m not a child anymore. And neither is Thor. And things are not as simple as they used to be.

I take in a deep breath and reach for the coin in my pocket. The metal feels cool and smooth in my palm. Sparing a side-glance at Thor, who is still marveling at the landscape, I address him in a low, concerned voice. “Thor?”

“Hmm?” He doesn’t look at me right away. Instead his gaze lingers on the massif before us. 

I hold out the coin for him and carefully watch his face as he turns his eyes toward it. I don’t know what kind of reaction I expect, but Thor doesn’t seem caught or embarrassed. He just flickers his eyes between my face and the coin in my hand, mild surprise written on his features. He reaches out and takes the token, turning it over in his fingers. 

“Oh, you found it,” is all he says. His voice gives no indication of what he’s thinking.

“You didn’t tell me,” I say – an observation, not a reproach.

Thor smirks. “Well, we weren’t exactly talking much about anything, were we?”

I stay silent and wait for him to continue. He sighs and gets up to put some more wood on the campfire. He sits down again, right next to me this time, thus closing the gap between us save for a few inches. I nervously shift in my seat, but don’t really dare to move away.

“I wanted to tell you,” Thor begins, rubbing his thumb over the engraved number on the coin. “Two or three times, actually. But I didn’t know how to start.”

His fingers work over the token in rhythmic circles. It’s the same motion that used to calm me down when we were younger – Thor’s hand on my neck, his thumb rubbing soothingly at a spot just below my ear. I almost wish he would reach out for me like this again. 

“Since when?” I ask, shaking the thought off.

“I started drinking about five years ago.”

I feel a pit form in my stomach. Thor must have noticed the change in my expression because he hastily adds, “I’ve been on the verge of alcoholism long before that. I always drank too much at parties or during the week with… friends.” He hesitates at speaking that last word and frowns.

“I told myself, as long as I wasn’t drinking alone, I had it under control.” He chuckles slightly at that. “Jane hated it. It was one of the few things we fought about on a current basis. Then – after she dumped me…” he throws me a quick side-glance, “After that, I started getting drunk on my own.”

My mouth feels very dry.

“I had good weeks,” Thor continues. “A whole month in between even. Didn’t touch one drink. I told myself that it was just a rough time. Something that I needed to get through and everything would be back to normal eventually. That I could quit at any moment, if I wanted to. The words of a paragon addict.”

There’s a slight bitterness in the smile he gives me and I feel the sudden urge to grip his arm. Instead I shy away from those bright blue eyes. 

“After my first rehab I managed to stay sober for two months, then I had a relapse. Dad took me in after I got evicted ‘cause I couldn’t pay the rent anymore. I had lost my job the year before and used up all my savings. Of course he gave me a hard time about it.” Thor gazes up at the darkening sky above us. “Can’t say I blame him. I was a complete mess.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper with a lump in my throat. “That I wasn’t there. That I didn’t help you.” 

“Yes, you were. And you did,” Thor says, his voice so soft that I almost don’t hear it over the wind. I look back at him, surprised. He’s still smiling – the bitterness now faded.

“Dad wouldn’t give me any money that I could use for buying booze. So I snuck around the house looking for small things I could sell or trade. One day, I found this.” He reaches into the pocket inside his parka and pulls out a small piece of paper, unfolds it and shows it to me. My eyes widen at the sight. Smiling wildly back up at me are my eight-year-old self and eleven-year-old Thor, splashing water all around and giggling. It’s the photograph father had taken of us and mother on our first vacation in Norway. The lump in my throat expands.

“When I looked at your face-” His voice breaks and for a moment I fear that he’ll start to cry. But Thor only clears his throat. “I just thought, what would’ve you said to me when you could’ve seen me. How I had let you down. How I had let myself down. And _ mom _.” 

At this, he has to wipe his eyes after all. With a sniff he says, “I knew I couldn’t go on like this anymore. Mom had us promise to look after one another and I had failed her. I wasn’t taking care of myself. I wasn’t taking care of dad. And,” he looks at me, smiling sadly now and gently takes my hand in his, “I wasn’t taking care of you. I didn’t even know where you were or what you did. If you were doing okay. That’s what pulled me out of my misery. I started another rehab the next day and went to AA meetings in the city centre.” 

His hand feels warm and dry and the touch sends a prickling to my stomach.

“The therapy was a kind of eye-opener, to be honest. I learned a lot about the person I’d become and what caused me to go down this way. There was this hot ball of fear and shame deep inside me. And the urge to live up to everybody else’s expectations. I learned to let go of that.”

“Shame?” I ask, a little surprised at the thought, recalling the shining image of my perfect, golden, teenage brother. “What could you possibly be ashamed of?”

Thor crooks his head, with a strange gleam in his eyes. “Oh, you know,” he says, looking at me as if he’s trying to penetrate my mind. “A few things…” 

Then he turns and flips the coin, catching it with his free hand. He regards me with a soft expression that’s just as peculiar as the penetrating stare. “So you see, thanks to you I’m starting to get a grip on my life again. I’m taking care of myself again. And I finally wanna take care of _ you. _”

“Thor…”

“No,” he interrupts, sounding sincere. “I mean it. When dad got sick I feared I would relapse again, but then I had to call you to let you know and we were suddenly in touch again and I can’t tell you how good that felt and-”

He starts to babble and I can hardly focus on a word he says because there’s something coming apart inside me right now and feeling the full intensity of Thor’s hand on mine is simply too much. We’re way too close and just like five years ago, I’m hanging from the edge again and only barely holding on. I release a sharp breath that I wasn’t aware I’d been holding, and the only thing on my mind is blank panic and the realization that I _ need _ to get away _ right now _. I’m on my feet before I can think.

There’s surprise on Thor’s face, as well as hurt and I feel a sting in my heart. “I-I’m sorry,” I stammer, raking a hand through my hair. “I just… I need to pee.” And with that, I all but run towards the tree line beyond our campsite. 

\---

An hour later, when the sun’s set completely and the fire’s died down to a soft glow, I come back. Thor’s not sitting on the log anymore. Sighing and staring at the spot where I left him, for a moment I’m uncertain what to do. My racing heart has calmed down, as well as my nerves. Spending the last hour walking around in circles through the trees has helped with that - all the while making sure to stay visible from the campsite. I hadn’t wanted to risk Thor coming to look after me.

After another deep breath I duck into the tent’s vestibule. I push off my shoes, take off my parka, and crawl inside. Thor’s lying on his side in his sleeping bag, facing the tent wall, breathing quietly. I’m not sure if he’s asleep but I try to make as little noise as possible, wriggling into my own sleeping bag. Father’s ashes now sit between us on a pile of Thor’s shirts, leaning against the back of the tent. 

I close my eyes and listen to the rhythmic sound of Thor’s breath. It’s been a while since I shared a sleeping space with someone. Outside the wind is building up again and I can feel it tugging at the rain fly. In here the musty smell has faded. I can smell Thor’s scent now, raw and earthy, like air after summer rain. It makes my insides flip and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to fall asleep.

\---

**Seattle, 2014, spring**

“Is she pregnant?”

“No.”

“Are you dying?”

“No.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, putting his phone on speaker to have his hands free for loading his coffee machine. His brother was on the other side of the line, and the news he gave him at 5:30 a.m. called for coffee. _ Lots _of coffee. 

“Okay,” Loki said, switching on the machine and trying for a reasonable tone. “Then what’s all this rush about?”

“I love her,” Thor said matter-of-factly. 

“Oh, come on!” Loki bursts out. “You’ve only known her for six months.”

“Well,” his brother sounded almost offended, “I’ve known her long enough to know that she’s the one.”

“Thor,” Loki sighed.

“Loki,” Thor gave back in a challenging tone. 

Loki sighed. “All right. I’m still way too tired to try and get through to that thick head of yours.”

There was a snort heard from the other side of the line. Then, after a brief pause, Thor’s voice had lost some of its edge when he said: “Sorry I woke you up. I forgot New York’s three hours ahead of Seattle. I just… I proposed to her over breakfast and when she said yes… well, you were the first person I wanted to tell.”

“Well, I’m… honored?” Loki didn’t quite know what to say. His throat felt tight at his brother’s words. He reached for the most obvious reply. “Congratulations on your engagement, I guess.”

“Thank you.” There was a smile in Thor’s tone. The coffee machine gurgled loudly, so Loki didn’t get his next words.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?”

“I asked you to be my best man.”

Loki almost dropped the cup he was pulling out of the cabinet. “I, uh…” he stammered reaching for words. Half a million reasons of why that was a bad idea rushed through his head. “Wouldn’t it be… more appropriate to ask one of your friends to do it?”

“Why? You’re my brother and my oldest friend. You’re the perfect choice for the job!” Thor sounded like he was surprised this was even worth questioning. “And before you say anything else,” he added, cutting Loki off who had already opened his mouth to disagree, “It’s my wedding, I choose you as my best man, and I am not taking ‘no’ for an answer. That’s final.” 

\---

**New York City, 2014, early summer**

_ Well, she _ is _ pretty _ , Loki thought, regarding Jane who was sitting across from him at the small coffee table. _ A bit plain, maybe. But pretty in her own way. _

They were at the airport, waiting for Jane’s friend to arrive. They – that meant Jane, and Loki, whom Thor had left in charge to babysit his fiancé while he himself was off at work. Bastard. 

Loki frowned. He didn’t think it was fair for Thor to have his brother fly all the way from Seattle, only to play tour guide for the bride-to-be and her maid of honor, who were both from New Mexico and didn’t know their way around New York City. Jane had intimated that she and her friend (was her name Darcy?) wanted to do a sightseeing tour of all the tourist magnets in the Big Apple. 

“But I thought Thor said you’ve been working in New Jersey for almost a year now? And you haven’t been to Manhattan yet?” He took a sip out of the coffee cup in front of him. Jane, who had been watching the escalators across the hall, obviously shying away from eye-contact, shot him a quick glance before going back to observing the stairs.

“Not really, no,” she confessed. “My work has kept me rather occupied. I never had the time to really enjoy myself around here apart from a few bars and the restaurants Thor’s taken me to. I mean, I have seen Central Park. But I never did the whole tourist thing, you know? I haven’t even been to the Empire State Building yet.”

“Wow,” Loki replied, trying to sound at least slightly interested. “Well, we can’t have you going into this _ marriage _ an Empire-State-virgin, can we?” He kept his tone playful, only hardly able to suppress an eye role.

Jane gave him a smile, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Thank you for doing this, Loki,” she said. “I mean, keeping me company while Thor is at work.”

“My pleasure.” The smile he gave her was mostly teeth. 

“I know,” she said in a lower voice, leaning closer so he could still hear her over all the noise in the terminal, “For you as a local this whole sightseeing stuff is probably boring as hell. I really appreciate you putting up with me and Darcy. With the wedding only a week away, I really need a distraction from all the planning and last minute arrangements.”

Loki stopped in his thoughts and looked her over. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “That must be exhausting. You two seem to be in a bit of a hurry to get married…” He raised a brow questioningly.

“Actually,” Jane replied, eyes darting between him and the escalators, “actually, it was Thor’s idea to get married so soon.”

Now, that was news.

“I told him I had no problem with staying engaged for a year or two, until we figured everything else out, you know?” She reached for her own coffee, but instead of drinking it, she just turned the cup around in her hand. “I mean,” she chuckled sheepishly, “after all, we’ve only been together for a few months. And then he just asked me to marry him over breakfast two months ago. It’s just all happening so fast.”

When she saw Loki’s raised eyebrows, she hastily added, “I really love him, I do! That’s why I said yes. I mean, he’s perfect.”

Loki snorted. “Forgive me, but I feel obliged to inform you that my oaf of a brother really is far from _ perfect _. I wouldn’t want you to say your vows under a false impression.”

Jane laughed, and Loki joined in, although there wasn’t much humor in his voice. 

“No, I know that,” she said. She bit her lower lip, and when she faced him again she said: “Thor’s just… well, _ Thor _. He’s kind and sweet, and has a good heart. He makes me swoon every time I look at him. I just really think that what we’ve got going is good. I want him.”

At this, Loki felt a tiny stab in his heart. Hearing her talk about Thor like that made him feel dizzy. His palms suddenly felt sweaty and his throat had become very dry.

“Oh look! She’s here!” Jane exclaimed, jumping off her seat and making him flinch. When he followed Jane’s gaze, he spotted a woman at the lower end of the escalator, a monstrous suitcase at her side, ardently waving at them. Jane ran to meet her halfway across the terminal while Loki followed shortly after. As he approached, he gave her a quick look-over. She had dark hair and appeared to be somewhere in her early twenties, though her eyes heavy with makeup and her lips painted with dark red lipstick made it hard to tell for sure. She threw her arms around Jane in a bear hug and planted a kiss on her cheek, while Jane giggled with glee. 

“I can’t believe I’m finally here,” Loki heard her say. “The flight was horrible. There was a baby in the row behind me and it wouldn’t stop wailing. I mean, what the hell are people thinking, bringing their babies on flights?”

“Aw, come on Darcy, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Jane chimed in with a laugh. When she saw Loki coming up behind them, she turned towards him with a smile. “Darcy, this is Thor’s brother, Loki. He’s been so kind as to keep us company and show us around while Thor’s still at work.”

Darcy’s eyes grew big as she looked him over. “Uh, so you’re the best man, aye? You know, best man and maid of honor usually get to hook up at the end of the wedding...”

“Darcy!” Jane swatted her arm.

“What?” Darcy shrugged. “I don’t make the rules.”

Loki inclined his head and gave her a smirk. “Hmm, well, we’ll see,” he said, winking at her. 

She grinned back and looped her arm around his. “Now that’s a man to my taste.”

Jane just shook her head. “Careful there,” she told him. “She’s gonna hold you to it.” 

“Alright,” Darcy exclaimed. “Where to first? Statue of Liberty? Ellis Island? Times Square?”

“Well, we’re supposed to meet Thor on top of the Empire State Building around four,” Jane said, looking at her watch. “I already bought the tickets, so maybe we could start with a walk around Central Park?”

“I don’t think,” Loki interrupted, “that we’ll have much time for that. With all that traffic it’s going to take us an hour alone to get away from the airport. I think we have time to drop off your luggage and then go straight to the Empire State.”

Jane shrugged. “Sounds reasonable to me. Maybe we can grab a bite on the way there. Nothing fancy, just enough to keep us going until we meet Thor for dinner.”

“Where exactly are we staying anyway?” Darcy asked, her eyes darting between Loki and her friend. “At Thor’s place?”

“Oh no,” Jane said. “Thor’s place is much too small to fit us all.”

“I wouldn’t even go so far as to call it a _ place _,” Loki murmured loud enough for them to hear. 

“And since my place is practically a box full of belongings and a mattress on the floor in my coworker’s flat, we’re staying with Thor and Loki’s dad. He’s got a house in Manhattan.”

“Sweet.” Darcy whistled, grabbing her suitcase and looking at Loki expectantly. “Lead the way then, handsome!”

\---

“This is so cool!”

It was windy up on the observation platform of the Empire State Building. Windy, and crowded. 

“Uuh, look! I can see the Rockefeller Center from here!” 

Jane and Darcy were pressed to the security fence surrounding the railing, pointing at different buildings and giving tiny shouts of rapture now and then. Loki inwardly rolled his eyes. _ Tourists _ . He looked at all the other people standing around, talking and taking pictures and sighed. He had never been good at denying Thor anything when he really _ asked _for it, but in moments like this, he really wished he had. 

“And Thor suggested we meet him here? That’s so _ romantic _. Just like in that movie… What was the title again? Ah yeah! Sleepless in Seattle!” Darcy jokingly elbowed her friend in the side. “Jeez, Jane, when did you start falling for the cheesy stuff?” 

“Stop it!” Jane called out, a nervous edge to her laughter. “I think it’s kinda sweet.”

“Hey, handsome! What do you think about this?”

Stepping closer, Loki shrugged. “I’m not sure if Thor’s really trying to be romantic,” he said, giving them the most casual look he could manage and suppressing a smile. “I know that he really likes the view. He usually brings his girlfriends up here.”

The change in Jane’s face was interesting to watch. Her smile slipped and left a look of uncertainty in its place. Past loves (not that there were as many as Loki had implied) seemed a weak point. He filed that information away for later.

Darcy, who had flickered her eyes between him and Jane, frowned. “Well, Jane’s not his girlfriend. She’s his fiancée.”

“Right,” Loki quickly replied, holding his hands up in defense. “None of them have made it this far.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket. “Hold on a minute,” he said, tugging it out to read the message on the display. “It’s from Thor.”

Both women scooted closer. “What’s it say?” Jane asked, while Darcy tried to peak at the screen. Loki scanned the message.

_ Sorry, can’t make it. Meeting’s taking forever. Tried to call Jane but she didn’t pick up. Will meet you later at dad’s. _

“He’s not coming,” Loki sighed and looked up at Jane. _ Just brilliant _, he thought, annoyed, shoving his phone back into his pocket. 

\---

“You don’t really like me, do you?”

Loki was sitting on the back porch, reading, when Jane’s voice startled him from the doorway. He looked up at her, masking his face with a questioning look. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

She smiled softly, stepping over to the railing and looking out over the garden. 

“I’m pretty sure you do,” she said, voice low but with no sign of accusation in it. “I noticed some of the looks you shot me during dinner today.” She turned to him, lips still curling upward. “The last time someone looked at me like that was in high school.”

After Thor had ditched them, Loki had felt obligated to play host and feed their guests before they headed home. Since he’d been halfway to starvation himself he’d taken them to the nearest Friday’s. The dinner had been trying, mostly due to Darcy’s endless blabbering, and Loki had felt his irritation at this whole situation increase exponentially. He was mad at Thor for leaving it to him to care for Jane and her stupid friend, and irritated at Jane for just being _ there _ in the first place. The time alone on the back porch had helped cool his nerves slightly, but now Jane was here. And the topic of this conversation was starting to fan the flames of his anger all over again.

“It’s probably just pre-wedding nerves,” he tried to put her off, taking a deep breath, but his grip on the cover of his book was a bit too tight. Working himself up wouldn’t lead him anywhere. 

“I don’t blame you,” Jane chimed in. When she placed her hand on the railing, the evening sun caught on the little diamond ring on her finger, making it shine like there was fire trapped inside the stone. “You see,” she continued, “Thor talks about you a lot.”

Loki furrowed his brows. 

“He told me how close you were as children. And how you stuck together when your mother died.”

There was a tiny sting in his heart at the mention of Frigga. He brushed it off, facing Jane with polite impatience as he said, “And now you’re going to promise me that you’re not going to take my precious brother from me when you marry him, and that we can all be one big happy family?” 

The smile he gave her didn’t reach his eyes.

They locked gazes for a moment, then Jane broke eye-contact and resumed to examine the garden.

When Frigga had been alive, it had been a radiant place. Bright and green, every corner had been filled with lavender, lilac, and evergreens. Rose bushes had taken over all of the back of the garden, filling the air with their sweet, heavy scent in the summer. It had been a magical place, full of life – full of their mother. Every tree and every bush used to vibrate with her presence whenever Loki had chosen to spend his time among them. 

Being here now, the garden still looked nice and welcoming. There weren’t as many rose bushes as there used to be and only one lilac was left to the north side of the garden. And the aura had changed. 

“This is your mother’s garden, isn’t it?” Jane asked, letting her gaze sweep over the little patch of honeysuckle on the right side of the porch. “It’s very beautiful.”

Loki’s lips grew to a thin line. “Actually, it’s Thor’s garden now,” he said. “He inherited mother’s green thumb and tends to it whenever he can. He’s here almost every other day looking after the plants.”

Jane shot him a glance. “He did this?” she asked, vaguely motioning towards the flowerbeds on the right. “He never mentioned he had a thing for gardening.”

Loki shrugged and got up from his chair, joining her at the railing. “I’m sure the opportunity to bring it up simply didn’t present itself yet. It’s only been half a year, after all.”

“You disapprove of this marriage.” She frowned up at him.

“_ Engagement _,” he corrected her. “And, no. I’m just… worried that the two of you are rushing head first into something that you might regret later.”

“That’s not true.” 

Loki felt irritation rise to the verge of anger. He let out a deep breath before he spoke again. “Look, Jane. What exactly is it that you love about Thor? And don’t give me that ‘oh he’s so kind and loyal’ bullshit,” he cut her off when she opened her mouth. “It’s cute, but it doesn’t make for a good reason to fall in love.”

“It’s the best reason to love someone,” Jane spat back, angry now. 

Loki smiled a vicious little smile at her. “Why? Because they won’t leave you, and you don’t have to spend your sad little life all alone? Bullshit.” They were glaring at each other now and Loki felt heat creeping up his neck. 

“Poor little Jane Foster,” he hissed, malice dripping in his words. “You’re afraid to be left alone, aren’t you?”

Jane’s eyes widened and she took a step back. “No, that’s not-”

“Who hurt poor little Jane?” Loki cut her off, ignoring her protest. “You never sat at the popular kids’ table at lunch, did you? No. No, you strike me as the weird girl, the nerdy nobody who’s all alone at a table in the corner, all by herself.” 

“No.” Jane looked like someone had struck her.

“And along comes Thor, bright and golden, to save you from your loneliness and all the bad boys you loved before. Those who held you and told you they loved you and would never leave. But, of course they did.” He grinned down at her. “In the end, they always do.”

“Thor won’t,” Jane whispered, her hand gripping the railing tightly. She ripped her eyes away from his gaze. 

“Of course he will,” Loki said, whispering too now. “It’s you, Jane. You’ve got nothing to offer him. Once he starts to get bored, he’s gonna leave you, too.” 

He felt the rush of adrenaline pulse through his veins. This woman was just a scared little deer caught in his headlights. She was not worthy of his brother. “From what I’ve discovered so far, you’re just as plain on the inside as you are on the outside. Do you really think Thor would be happy spending his life at the side of some random, mediocre scientist, a little girl who’s afraid of always being the one who gets picked last?”

“And do you think,” Jane said, voice low but firm, “he’d be happier spending his life with you?”

She looked back up at him, with a steely glance that caught Loki off guard. 

“What?” he asked, taken aback. 

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” The anger from before was gone from her voice. Instead she sounded serious, almost concerned. And the look she gave him made him feel like he was being scrutinized and studied under a giant microscope. “You really _ are _ afraid that I’ll take him from you. But not because of some overly attached brotherly feelings, am I right?”

“I don’t know-”

“Oh, I think you do. Thor told me a lot about the time after your mother’s funeral. How you held him at night when he couldn’t sleep?” Jane crooked her head, her soft brown eyes on his, the picture of understanding patience. “He also told me about the phone call he gave you the morning he proposed, and how you reacted to the news of our engagement. And I notice how you look at him when you think he’s not watching.”

Now it was Loki who took a step back.

“You’re in love with him,” Jane concluded – a statement, not a question.

Loki stared at her. The adrenaline was gone from his system now, and all his insides felt like they were in free fall.

When Jane spoke again, her voice had lost the steeliness and had taken on a soft tone instead. “Look,” she said, carefully reaching out her hand to touch his elbow. “I’m sorry I’m being this blunt but you didn’t really leave me with a chance to address the matter in a cautious way. These feelings are probably pretty confusing for you and I just wanna say that I’d like to help you. We’re going to be family pretty soon, and I think that maybe if you just told Thor-”

Loki yanked his arm free, turning away from her. “You don’t know anything! I don’t need _ your help _,” he hissed, cradling his elbow against his chest like Jane’s touch had burned him. Who did she think she was, talking to him like that? Like she knew? Like any of this was even true?

Jane squared her shoulders. “Fine. I tried,” she said. “I know, I don’t really know you, and I know that it’s not my place to say this, but I really think you should talk to Thor about this.”

“You’re right. It’s not your place to say that,” Loki spat back, glowering at her. 

Jane looked as if she wanted to say something else, but seemed to think better of it. So instead she just shot him one last glance, then turned around and left. 

Loki remained alone on the porch. Jane’s words had turned his stomach to stone. But it was the empathy in her eyes, the hint of pity when she gave him that last look, that made him want to vomit.

\---

“Are you alright?” 

Loki’s head snapped up to meet Thor’s concerned gaze. They were standing in the dressing room of the gentlemen’s outfitters where Thor had picked out his wedding suit a few weeks ago. Now the tailor had finished the alterations and the suit was ready for a final fitting. For some unknown reason, Thor had dragged Loki along.

“I’m fine,” Loki lied. In fact, he’d never been less fine since the day of their mother’s death. 

“You sure?” Thor asked, fiddling with the cuffs of his white shirt. “You’re awfully quiet today. I’d expected to hear an endless tirade of how much of an ass I am for leaving you alone with Jane and Darcy last night.” He smiled at Loki. One of those smiles that crinkled the skin around his blue eyes. 

Loki felt sick. “Maybe you’ll still hear it.” He managed a smirk, but his heart wasn’t in it.

“Jane told me you showed her the garden yesterday.”

Loki’s heart skipped a beat. “She did?” he asked, throat suddenly very dry. Blinking, he stared at a dark spot on the right corner of the carpet. 

“Yeah,” Thor said, looking into the full-length mirror and adjusting his collar. “She really loves it. She suggested planting an apple tree after the wedding. To get the whole deal, you know? Build a house, father a child, plant a tree…”

“Hmm,” Loki said, worrying at his hands. “Jane didn’t say anything else about last night?”

“She told me about your visit to the Empire State and that you took her and Darcy out for dinner last night. But otherwise… no. Why?”

Relief made its way through Loki’s insides. So Jane hadn’t told Thor of their argument then.

_ Yet _, corrected the tiny voice in the back of his mind. He pushed the thought away. “Nevermind,” he said. 

“I’m really glad you two spent some time together,” Thor continued while trying to bind his tie – and failing miserably. “My two favorite people in the world getting to know each other.” He winked at Loki.

“Yeah,” Loki replied, stepping up and swatting Thor’s hands away from the tie, no longer capable of watching his brother’s struggle. “About that. I’m still not sure what you see in her.” 

When he caught Thor’s warning gaze he hastily added, “I mean, she doesn’t strike me as the girl you’d chose to marry.” He tied a Full Windsor Knot, then ran his hands over the tie to smooth it, and stepped back.

Thor shrugged. “I never really thought about getting married in the first place.”

“Then… what made you think of it?”

Thor stayed silent for a minute. “Mom,” he said then quietly. “When she… left us, she left me her engagement ring. The one dad gave her.”

Loki halted in his movements. “I didn’t know that.”

“It was a few days before she… passed away.” Thor cleared his throat. “I never found the courage to tell you.”

The information bothered Loki, though he couldn’t have said why. “So, you proposed to Jane, only because mother gave you her ring?” He raised an eyebrow, his lips forming a thin line.

“No, of course not!”

“Well, then why?”

“I… love her, Loki,” Thor answered, though he didn’t meet his eyes. “That’s all I can tell you.”

“But,” Loki began, not quite sure what he even wanted to say.

“Stop it.” Thor held his hand up and sighed. “I’m nervous enough already. I need you at my side in this. So, please, Loki.” 

The look on Thor’s face was pleading, although there was something else in it that Loki couldn’t fathom. 

“Mom’s not here, and dad’s never been good at this family stuff. I need you. _ Please _,” Thor repeated with vigor.

Loki sighed and nodded, which earned him a short hug from his brother. 

“So,” Thor stepped back, stretching both arms and turning around. “How do I look?”

\---

**Somewhere in Norway, 2019, autumn**

Half an hour later, I’m still awake. Thor has shifted onto his back and is now snoring like a drunken sailor. Clapping my hands twice to startle him and make turn onto his side again hasn’t helped. Sleeping seems out of the question right now. I sigh, tossing from one side to the other, growing more and more irritated by the minute. 

In spite of my thick new sleeping bag the cold creeps through my body, slowly turning me into an icicle, and the howling wind outside isn’t exactly helping the matter. There is a soft pounding noise coming from the tent’s roof. Apparently the rain has started again, and it’s only getting heavier. At least the drumming seems to wake Thor up enough for him to rustle to his side, because a moment later the snoring stops. 

_ Well, at least one problem is solved _ , I think while shivering so hard it makes my teeth clatter. _ Why the hell did I sign up for this? I could be in a nice warm hotel bed now. With heating. And a soft mattress and pillows. But no… _

“Loki?” Thor’s sleepy voice startles me in my thoughts. I stay silent. A minute passes.

“Loki? Are you awake?” I can hear shuffling, and then a hand brushes my back.

“How could I be asleep with all this snoring?” I ask, irritated.

“Sorry.” 

The drops drumming on the rain fly sound like they’re the size of golf balls. 

“Are you cold?”

“Make an educated guess,” I say through clattering teeth. Again there’s some shuffling behind me and the next time Thor speaks, his voice seems much closer than before.

“Come here, scoot over,” he says. My mind goes blank for a moment. To do what? Share body heat? Not happening.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I mumble, tugging the sleeping bag tighter around myself.

“What?” Thor asks, sounding almost offended. “You’re freezing.”

“Go back to sleep.” I try to put as much vigor in my tone as the shivering allows. It isn’t much.

For the duration of a heartbeat, all that can be heard are the rain and the howling wind outside. Then Thor shuffles again, crossing the last few inches between us. Horrified, I feel his arm wrap around my middle, pulling me closer to his broad chest.

“Thor!” I squirm, trying to shove his arm off me. My heart is racing and I feel a flush creeping up my neck. But Thor’s grip tightens.

“C’mon,” he says in a calm voice. “You can’t sleep like that. And if you don’t sleep, you’re going to be insufferable in the morning.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re insufferable _ all the time _! And an oaf!” I blurt out, but I give up the squirming. There’s no escaping Thor’s grip of death. I shut my eyes, trying to level my breathing and calm my pulse. But as much as I would like to be anywhere else right now, Thor is right: this is much warmer. The heat he’s giving out already starts to creep through the layers of clothes and sleeping bags between us and I can feel the muscles in my back relax. My brother’s always been radiating warmth like a power house. In fact, now that I think about it, I can’t recall a time when I’ve ever seen him cold. As kids we used to play in the snow and he’d always get rid of his coat sooner or later – much to mother’s despair. Thor had always shown a profound immunity to any kind of weather.

I can smell his scent again, much more intense this time. Apparently taking my lack of resistance as silent permission, Thor hugs me even closer to his chest, his breath in my neck and the weight of his arm solid against my middle. 

When Thor’s other hand sinks into my hair, I almost jump out of my skin.

“Sorry,” Thor whispers, but doesn’t remove his hand. “It’s just… more comfortable like this.”

“If you pull my hair in your sleep, I swear…” The words come out with less force than I intend. Awkward or not, I start to feel the warmth calming me. Thor’s familiar smell – the smell of _ home _ – adds its part to the charm. 

But his next words push my heart rate up again.

“I remember the last time I held you like this,” he says, still whispering. With wide open eyes I stare into the darkness. Because I, too, recall that evening.

\---

**New York City, 2014, summer**

The night of Thor’s bachelor party was scheduled three days before his wedding. There was quite a crowd gathered at his favorite bar – friends, colleagues, cousins. Loki counted 27 people, not including Thor and himself. The groom-to-be spent the night getting pats on the back, well-meaning advice on the ups and downs of marriage as he was bathed in the spotlight of attention. Also, he got tremendously drunk.

Loki had seen his brother drink before – they had staggered home together from a bunch of high school parties – but never had Thor gotten this wasted. Loki was sure that, if he stuck a wick in his brother’s mouth and lit it, he’d burn for a fortnight. Thor swayed on his feet, barely holding himself upright as Loki waved for a cab to take them home to Odin’s place.

“I really don’t know why I don’t simply leave you to sleep in the gutter,” Loki heaved, as he dragged Thor across the pavement towards the stairs leading up to the front door. “You deserve it.”

Thor grunted a giggle. “’s cause you love me, Lo,” he slurred into Loki’s ear, making him shiver.

“Stop that!” Loki fished for the keys in his pocket. “Now hold on. I have to unlock the door.”

That turned out to be a complicated task, since Thor kept bending over dangerously, threatening to fall down the stairs. Loki finally resigned to push him up against the door, while pushing the key into the lock and turning it. When the door finally swung open to the inside though, both brothers tumbled into the dark hallway and crashed onto the hardwood floor. 

Loki scrambled to his feet, hissing and rubbing at the hipbone that hit on the frame on his way down, while Thor giggled childishly from his place on the carpet.

“Shut up!” Loki muttered, shoving at his brother so he could close the door behind them. “It’s two in the morning. They’re all asleep.”

He reached down and pulled Thor to his feet. It was like trying to move a baby elephant. “C’mon now! We need to get you upstairs.”

That seemed to get through to Thor, because he stilled for a moment before he said, “No. Promised Jane I wouldn’ dr‘nk too much. She h-hates it ‘hen I do… ‘m sleep’n on the couch tonight.”

Relieved about not having to drag his brother up the steep flight of stairs, Loki happily steered him towards the living room at the end of the hallway instead.

When they reached the couch, Thor flopped down with a groan, face first into a cushion. Loki pulled off his brothers boots and grabbed a blanket hanging from the other end of the couch. He is own drunkenness started to kick in now that he was done with taking care of Thor. He yawned audibly, tossing the blanked at his brother, already turning for the door.

“Do you need anything else? Water, or something?” he asked, rubbing at his eyes. When he opened them again, he saw Thor gazing back up at him, his face illuminated by the light from outside. He was smiling sleepily and the soft light rendered the edges of his face into soft carvings of a marble sculpture. To Loki, he had never looked more beautiful.

Shaking his head slightly to rid himself of that thought, Loki took a step towards the hallway. “Well, if you don’t, I guess this is goodn-” He began, but Thor cut him off.

“I need you.” His voice couldn’t have shook Loki more if Thor had screamed the words at him instead of the low whisper he had used instead.

Loki drew in a sharp breath. “You… what?”

Thor patted the couch. “Don’t leave me alone,” he said. 

“I…,” Loki began, feeling his heart rate pick up. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not going to fit us both.”

“Pl’se,” Thor said, scooting against the back to make room for Loki. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

Loki stood there, heart racing – wanting to flee the room immediately, yet wanting desperately to climb on the couch with Thor, and unable to move in either direction. His brother looked up at him expectantly.

_ This could be your last chance _, said the voice in his head, and to Loki’s surprise it didn’t speak with the usual sly malice in its tone, but serious concern. He closed his eyes and stayed completely still for another moment. Then Thor reached out for him, tugging at his hand, and he succumbed without further protest.

Loki must have dozed off sometime, for when he opened his eyes again, the clock on the wall showed a quarter to four and the light from outside had started to shift slightly, although it was still dark.

He felt a hand pressed to his chest and another in his hair, and suddenly remembered where he was. Lying on his side on the couch in their father’s living room, Thor was pressed against Loki’s back, his right arm swung over Loki’s middle, keeping him from falling over the edge and onto the ground.

The tiny puffs of breath on his neck told Loki that his brother was sound asleep.

Loki himself was suddenly wide awake again. His pulse hammered in his veins, his breath caught in his throat, his eyes wide, staring at the wall on the opposite side of the room without seeing it.

_ This isn’t good _ , he told himself, trying to steady his thoughts that were going a million miles an hour. _ Oh no. This is so not where you’re supposed to be. You should be upstairs in your own bed. Alone. _

_ Alone with your damned feelings and your abnormal desires. _

_ Relax _ , the voice in his head told him, sounding almost amused. _ You’re working yourself up over nothing. You’re both drunk. You’re crashing on the couch to take the edge off. There’s no harm in that. _

Loki frowned at himself. There was enough harm in the last time they’d slept like this, pressed together in a cramped space. His heart clenched at the memory. They hadn’t really talked about what had happened back then. As well as they hadn’t talked about him kissing Thor after their fight at the playground. Their mother’s death had occupied all thoughts, words and feelings after that, not leaving much room for anything else. 

And, what was there to talk about anyway?

_ ‘You’re in love with him.’ _

Loki squeezed his eyes shut and breathed for a moment. He could do this. He could get through this wedding, be Thor’s best man, smile for the pictures, eat the damn cake and when the celebration was done, he could return to his flat in Seattle and be far away from the danger zone again. 

After all, he’d chosen to build his life on the other side of the U.S. for a reason: bringing as many miles between him and Thor as physically possible. He’d done it once, he could surely do it again after the wedding. Piece of cake.

And he would start now by disentangling himself from this mess and going upstairs to his room.

Loki tried to wriggle free as cautiously as possible so he wouldn’t wake Thor. He got as far as sliding his legs over the edge of the couch, but when he tried to shift so he could shove Thor’s arm off, his brother stirred and asked with a raspy voice: “What’s wrong?”

Loki, now half on his back, turned his face to look at Thor. Tired eyes were squinting back at him and he could smell the beer on his brother’s breath.

“Sorry,” Loki whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s still night,” Thor yawned. “Where are you going?”

“Umm, upstairs? To my room?”

Thor blinked at him, then he pulled him closer. “Just stay,” he said.

“Stop this,” Loki spat, shoving at Thor’s breast. “Let me up!”

“No.”

“Thor!”

“What is it?” Thor almost managed to sound annoyed. “And please spare me your usual non-answers.”

“Why do you have to be so clingy?” Loki hissed. “We’re not children anymore.”

“I missed you,” Thor murmured, his grip as tight as ever.

Loki sighed, but couldn’t help but feel his irritation soften at those words. “What kind of reason is that supposed to be?” he whispered, finally giving up his struggle and pulling his legs back onto the couch to get comfortable.

“A good one,” was all the answer he got. Thor had closed his eyes again. The hand he’d had entangled in Loki curls was now resting against its familiar place on Loki’s neck, the thumb rubbing gentle circles just below his right ear.

“You’re still drunk,” Loki told him, a half smile on his lips. He once again watched the creeping light of the upcoming morning on Thor’s features. It made his brother look much younger, more like a teenager than a man who’d be turning thirty in two and a half years. 

The familiar warmth of the hand against Loki’s neck, the soothing motion of its thumb against his skin and the soft light on his brother’s face made his heart ache terribly, yet filled his chest with deep contentment. This was the way they were supposed to be – close, and not apart. This was how they’d always been, until the day that Loki had discovered that the love he held for Thor ran deeper than the affection of a brother. How would he be able to bear witness to Thor saying his vows to Jane, when it meant tearing the two of them apart?

_ With dignity _ , Loki told himself, closing his eyes for a moment. _ Mother would have asked me to, if she were here. _

_ ‘Take care of each other…’ _

Well, if this _ was _ the last time they’d ever be like this…

Loki opened his eyes again and reached out his hand. Thor had cut his hair some time ago and it felt smooth and warm under his touch. “I like this new look,” Loki said, smiling, raking his fingers through the buzz cut at the side of Thor’s head. “It suits you.”

“Hmm,” Thor hummed and leaned into the touch. 

“The last time you cut your hair this short was in elementary school. You got gum stuck in it and mother had to shear it all off so it would look halfway presentable.” Loki let out a small laugh at the memory. “It looked horrible. You moped and cried about it for almost a week.”

“If I remember correctly,” Thor growled, peaking one eye open, “it was you who suggested tying my hair back with gum so you didn’t need to go inside and fetch me a hair band.”

Loki giggled. “You fell for it.”

“Aye.” Thor tried to look annoyed, but Loki could see the corners of his mouth trembling, which only made him laugh harder.

“Oh, you think that’s funny, huh?” Thor asked in mock anger. “Well, what about this, then?”

And before Loki had the chance to defend himself, Thor had started tickling his sides. Loki almost shrieked, as he was squirming under Thor’s hands, kicking and hitting and trying to get away from him.

“S-stop,” he heaved, trying to get a grip on Thor’s wrists. After another moment of jostling, Loki finally managed to flip them over, pinning Thor beneath him, holding his brother’s wrists next to his head. The laugh still on his lips he looked down at Thor who was grinning up at him. 

Maybe it was the alcohol, still making him feel a little dizzy. Or maybe it was the way Thor was smiling back up at him. Had he been asked what had initiated it, Loki couldn’t have told for sure.

The only thing he knew was that the next moment, he was bending down, pressing his lips to Thor’s.

And Thor was kissing him back.

Strong hands moved over Loki’s sides and across his back, although he couldn’t remember letting go of Thor’s wrists. His own hands though, were buried in the short strands of Thor’s hair. The arms around Loki’s were pulling him closer and he eagerly followed the invitation, overrun with the same need for closeness. 

Hunger flared to life in his chest as Thor opened his mouth to let him in. Loki could taste beer and scotch, could smell the faint touch of smoke from the bar. He wanted to devour Thor. To hold him like this forever and never let go.

“Oh my God!”

Both men jumped apart like they had been struck by lightning. They both stared at Jane, who was standing in the doorway, eyes wide, a hand clasped over her mouth. Her eyes darted back and forth between the two of them, before finally settling on Thor’s face.

“I… I thought I…” she stammered, her voice muffled by the hand still pressed to her mouth. “I thought I’d heard a noise from down here, so I…” She broke off.

“Jane,” Thor said, almost whispering, and raised his hand. “Jane, I’m so sorry. I-”

But she just shook her head. “I… I should… go,” she said and was gone from the doorway in a flash.

“No, Jane! Wait!” Thor called after her, scrambling to his feet.

And before Loki had a chance to say anything, Thor had sprinted after her, leaving him alone in the dark living room, eyes as wide as Jane’s and heart hammering in his chest.


	3. Part 3: Where do we go from here?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Loki acounter some unexpected challenges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all, folks! Here's the last part of my BigBang. I hope, you enjoy the last part of the ride!  
Thank you all for reading, kudo-ing, and commenting!  
Here's also na_shao's last (and perfect) piece of art for this story!

**Part three**

**Where do we go from here?**

**Somewhere in Norway, 2019, autumn**

The thing I know about misfortune is that you hardly ever recognize it until it’s way too late.

When you finally realize that you’re stuck in shit, you’re already in elbows deep, and in no position to pull yourself out again. It comes creeping, leaving you oblivious to its presence.

My misfortune came in the form of a brother who always cared too much about me. Who taught me how to play baseball (although I pretended to hate it). Who hugged me after I had fallen and scratched my knees. Who once picked a fight with a boy about five inches bigger than himself, just because he had called me a girl. 

This could have been a beautiful story about a bond between two brothers – sweet and innocent, a charming little tale. But like I said, you only ever recognize the trapdoor once you’ve already fallen through.

There’s shame involved, once you realize you’re in love with your brother. A lot of it. These feelings go against anything you were brought up to believe. They break the rules. 

I tried to hide them as best I could, while feeling my heart break at the sight of Thor falling in love with people that weren’t me. That would  _ never _ be me.

I felt lost and alone, not knowing who to turn to. So I kept to myself and fled to the west coast. I swore I’d keep as much distance between me and my brother as physically and emotionally possible. I didn’t want to see him again, or even hear from him. I knew I’d get over these abominable feelings with time. All I needed was enough space to move around them.

Let me tell you another thing I know about misfortune: It keeps finding a way back to you.

Thor and I, on the other hand, currently can’t seem to find our way.

“I’m sure we’re close. It can’t be that long anymore.”

“You already said this, twice. We should have reached the damned trail about an hour ago.”

“Well, maybe we already did?”

“Does this look like a fucking trail to you?” Fuming, I kick at a clump of grey moss on the ground. “Because I can see nothing but moss, grass, and debris. There is no path, no holloway, no fucking sign that any human apart from us ever walked this hell-sight of a backcountry.”

“But maybe-”

“Maybe you navigated us into getting lost.”

Thor pouts. “We’re not lost.”

“Oh, so you know where the fuck we are?”

Thor glances at the map in his hands. “Well-”

“Yeah,” I huff, stomping past him and up a small rising to the right. “That’s what I thought.”

“Where are you going?” He stuffs the map into the pocket on his parka, crumpling it in the process, before he hurries after me. 

“I want to get an overview of how deep in this shit we are.” And I strut on up the hillside. 

“Don’t blame me,” Thor grumbles. “You’re the one who pointed us in this direction.”

He’s right, of course. I did march off northwards this morning without thinking, after having spent the greater part of the night lying awake. Thor’s warm front pressed to my back had indeed saved me from freezing to death, but in no way had it solved my problem of falling asleep. When I’d finally drifted off, it was to an uneasy sleep full of strange dreams.

The night left me feeling tired and cranky, which is probably the reason I’m irritated with Thor. But I don’t tell him. I need someone to blame for my current sore state of mind, and this whole trip was his stupid idea to begin with.

The ground is moist from the night’s rain. My feet keep slipping on the hillside debris. The day is misty and the air feels damp and cool against my face. Between my own panting breaths, Thor’s crunching footsteps are a steady rhythm behind me.

The area on top of the hill flattens out as I stomp the last few steps upward. The misty air up here makes it hard to see further than a rough hundred feet ahead in any direction. In the grey daylight breaking through the thick curtain of clouds above our heads, the fir trees on the hills slope appear dark and grim. 

Thor’s blond mane almost glows like tarnished gold against the sky. His eyes hold a mocking gaze as he says: “I could’ve told you the climb wouldn’t help. It’s too foggy.”

And it’s his bemused tone that becomes the last straw. The sudden wave of anger and frustration is simply too much to bear. I feel it coiling hot in my belly and take a step towards Thor, already opening my mouth to spit sweet venom in his face-

That’s when my foot slips again, and I hear the crunching and clattering of the debris sliding away under my shoes, rushing down the slope. 

The last thing I see is the horror on Thor’s face as he sprints forward, arms outstretched, reaching out for me… 

…and missing.

\---

**New York City, 2014, summer**

When the cab pulled up on the driveway, coming for Jane and Darcy, Loki figured he couldn’t hide away any longer. He’d spent the better part of this thrice-be-damned morning at the circular window up in the attic, sobering up and letting his thoughts run in circles, replaying every second of the night before. But now it was time to go.

He’d made his decision an hour ago. He’d spent the rest of the time working up the courage to climb down the ladder and face his brother. 

Loki took his time, trying to delay the inevitable as he was padding down to the kitchen, where he had heard noise and people talking on his climb down from the attic. His sleep deprived mind was feeding him different versions of how the upcoming confrontation would go. Most of the scenarios featured his brother throwing sharp objects at him.

When Loki finally reached the kitchen, Thor was sitting at the counter across from the doorframe, holding a steaming cup in his big hands, and staring at something in front of him. As Loki approached, he could make out Jane’s engagement ring sitting on the counter. The light coming in through the window illuminated the little diamond, causing red and blue reflections.

The knot that had formed in Loki’s stomach this morning now began to twist and pull at his intestines. He wanted to vomit; wanted to bolt out of the room, out of the house, out of this whole awful mess.

He stared at his brother’s face instead. Thor looked tired and rumpled. His short hair stuck out in funny angles and his skin looked sickly pale. His blue eyes were rendered red and puffy, as if he’d been crying for hours.

When Thor finally spoke, his voice sounded raspy and raw. “I hope you’re happy now. She’s gone.”

These words tucked at the knot, contracting it even further. “I... I didn’t mean-” Loki stammered, but Thor cut him off.

“Oooh, you  _ meant _ to,” he spat, settling his reddened eyes on Loki’s. “You meant to break us up from the very beginning. You’ve been trying to talk me out of this relationship since I first brought Jane home last Christmas. You hated her the moment you two met.”

“I didn’t hate her,” Loki said, trying to sound as reasonable as possible, hoping that Thor wouldn’t catch the tiny tremor in his voice. “But even you have to admit that the two of you aren’t exactly a match made in heaven. You have nothing in common. You wouldn’t have been happy marrying her.”

“How would  _ you _ know that?” Thor bellowed, slamming his fists on the counter top. “What do you know about my happiness?”

“I know  _ you _ ,” Loki gave back, gentle but firm. “And that woman-”

“Stop!” Thor roared, making Loki flinch. “Don’t you dare say another thing about Jane.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, Loki wide-eyed, Thor with a scowl.

“I’m… sorry,” Loki broke the pause, taking a step towards his brother. 

Thor closed his eyes, still frowning, his mouth a thin line. “Don’t. I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Thor, please-”

“ **I SAID DON’T** !” He was heaving now, turning away from Loki. 

Feeling panic rise inside him, fearing Thor might leave him again, like he had this morning, Loki choked out the words that had haunted him since their lips had parted in the living room. “I love you.”

Thor startled and slowly turned his head to face him. 

Taking a breath, Loki tried again. “I love you, Thor. I’m  _ in love _ with you.”

Thor just stared at him. Loki couldn’t read the expression on his face. His mind had gone blank after the words had escaped his mouth and the only thing he could feel right now was his hammering heartbeat.

After what felt like an eternity, Thor finally spoke again. “No,” he whispered. It couldn’t have hurt more if he had slapped Loki in the face. 

“No,” Thor repeated, louder this time. “This isn’t love. This is just another one of your stupid games. What are you trying to do? Mock me? Isn’t it enough I feel this way? That I’m this sick, disgusting…  **ugh** !” He broke off.

Loki shook his head, shocked and confused. Nothing Thor was saying was making any sense to him. “No, Thor. This isn’t a trick. I mean it! I love-”

“Enough!” It came out with so much anger that Loki took an involuntary step backwards.

Thor was glaring at him now, but not with fury in his eyes. It was hurt, and it made Loki’s heart fall to see it. 

“But, Thor,” he tried again, his voice and hand beginning to shake.

“No. I won’t have another word from you.” And with that, Thor was on his feet and out of the kitchen. 

Loki blinked, not sure what had just happened.

Then he heard the front door slam shut.

\---

**Somewhere in Norway, 2019, autumn**

“Will he be okay?”

“Don’t you worry, mate! Got his head bumped pretty badly, but I bet he’ll sleep it off.”

“And his leg?”

“Aye. Nothin’ a bit of disinfectant and some bandages won’t fix. Brunhilde patched him up nicely, see? And she got all the dirt out of the scratches, too. It’ll heal. I’m afraid his pants are ruined, though.”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Val? Only my mother calls me Brunhilde.”

“But it’s a nice name!”

“Just shut it, Korg!”

The voices sound like they’re coming from an old radio that’s stuck between stations. My head feels like someone let a rabid porcupine loose inside. The pain is agonizing. Even more so when I try to open my eyes and pale grey light sends tiny arrows through my brain. I squeeze them shut again, letting out a quiet moan.

“Loki? Loki!” There’s Thor’s voice next to me. A hand presses against my cheek.

I find the strength to blink my eyes up at my brother. Only for a few seconds though. The light is still too bright.

“Oh, thank god! Thank god!” Thor must have bent down; warm skin presses against my forehead and tiny puffs of breath brush against my face.

“I almost thought I’d lost you.”

Although he’s whispering, my ears ring at the sound of his voice. My head still feels like it’s the size of a planet.

“Get off me,” I mumble weakly, shoving at whatever part of Thor I can reach, still keeping my eyes closed. I grab at his face. My fingers slip inside his nostrils and mouth, trying to push him off.

Thor backs away, but catches my hand in his and holds it to his chest. 

I manage to shoot him an irritated glare, but regret it immediately. Apparently frowning is just as worse as daylight. Hissing, I press my free hand to my eyes. “What happened?”

“You had quite the fall, mate,” says a male voice to my right that I don’t recognize. “You went down the hillside and hit your head on a stump. We saw you coming down. Was quite the stunt you pulled there.”

When I try to sit up, two strong hands push me back to the ground.

“Stay down,” Thor says, concern in his voice. “You might have a concussion. You blacked out for a few minutes.”

“You think you broke any bones?” asks another voice, a woman this time. “Anything hurting?”

“Everything hurts,” I growl back. It’s true. It feels like I’ve been run over by a truck that stopped afterwards, shifted into reverse gear and rolled over me a second time - just to be sure. “But I don’t think anything’s broken. My leg feels like it’s on fire though.”

“Yeah, you scratched it pretty badly on your way down. I patched it up as best I could. It should be fine. Try not to swim in any of these ponds around here though.”

I peak my eyes open at the owner of that voice. A woman in her early thirties and long, black hair looks back down at me, her eyebrows raised and arms crossed. She’s wearing thick black boots, worn out jeans too big for her dainty figure, and a Lexan jacket. 

“Thank you,” I tell her and she gives me a little nod.

Next to her stands a short young man with strange, empty black eyes. He’s bald and his skin tone sports a rather unhealthy looking purple. The voice to my right belongs to a man whose giant shape puts even Thor’s broad shoulders in the shade. 

“Hey man,” he says, giving me a little wave. “My name’s Korg. This is Miek,” he points to the small bald guy, “and the lady over there’s Brunhilde. Or Val, for friends,” Korg hastily adds when he meets her gaze. “We’re glad you didn’t die.”

“Well, the feeling’s mutual,” I reply and finally push myself up into a sitting position. Every muscle inside me screams with the motion and I stagger a bit to the side, but Thor’s arm is right there, stabilizing me. I shoot him a quick questioning look. He looks back at me, concern in his eyes.

“I can manage,” I tell him. 

He retreats his arm, but his expression doesn’t change.

“So, you two were enjoying the view from up there, before your fall?” Korg asks, his eyes darting back and forth between me and Thor.

“Not exactly. We were trying to find our way. We lost the trail sometime this morning. We’re trying to reach Jotunheimen National Park.”

“Oh,” Korg laughed out. “Well, you’re lucky then. You’re already  _ in _ Jotunheimen National Park.”

“Where are you headed?” asks Val, who’s stuffing a small medical kit back into her bag.

“Memurubu,” Thor says.

“Oh, so you’re doing the Besseggen?” Korg wants to know. “We did that one last week. We’re headed for Oslo now. It’s time to go home for the winter.”

“So you’re here on vacation?” I ask, more out of politeness than interest. These people may have saved my life, but I’d prefer to keep this acquaintance as short as possible.

“Yep. We come here every summer. Have done almost every trail. I used to work as a tourist guide at Besseggen, y’know? But the winter we spent in the city. Made enough money to spend the next summer outside in the country.”

“So, you can tell us which way to go?” I give Korg my brightest smile, ignoring the sharp pain rushing through my temples. “We really need to get to Memurubu, and you seem to know your way around here.”

“Sure, no problem! But not today. It’s already getting late. I’ll take you there first thing tomorrow.”

“Oh, you don’t have to guide us,” I wave him off, “we don’t wanna hold you guys up. Just point us in the right direction.”

“’s no problem, mate,” Korg says, but thankfully doesn’t push the matter of guiding us any further. 

“But Korg’s right,” Val throws in. “It’s already getting dark. And you probably shouldn’t walk anyway.” She gives me a pointed look.

“Yeah,” Korg adds. “Why don’t you two join our camp for the night?”

“Oh, no I don’t think that’s-,” I begin, but Thor cuts me off.

“Thank you. We’ll gladly take you up on your offer!”

I shoot him another glare, but Thor just looks back at me, shrugging, and his eyes tell me that there’s no point in arguing with him. 

Our little group decides to set up the campsite at an even area about a hundred feet away from the foot of the hill. As Thor helps his newfound friends set up the tents and built a fire, I sit a bit to the side, leaning against a pile made of our backpacks, resting. It’s only been a short walk from the hill that I’ve mastered limping up, supported by Thor, but my head feels like it might combust with another motion. Thor’s been throwing me worried looks every two minutes.

“How do you feel?” Val walks up to me, passing me a bottle of water. 

“Like shit,” I tell her, taking a huge swig from the bottle. It tastes like nectar and ambrosia. 

“But, you don’t feel dizzy or like you’re gonna be sick any minute?” she asks, giving me a look-over, though her face is not nearly as concerned as Thor’s.

“No,” I reply. “Just my head feeling like someone used it as a bowling ball.”

She huffs a laugh. “It’ll pass. You’ll sleep it off. At least I’m pretty sure you don’t have a concussion.”

“Lucky bastard, aren’t I?” I go back to observing Thor and Miek, who are setting up tent number three.

We sit in silence for a moment, watching the others work. Dusk is already swallowing the light from the still overcast sky and the clouds look gloomy. It’s probably going to rain throughout the whole night again. I shiver at the thought.

“Y’know,” Val starts, her expression neutral. “Usually tourists don’t walk the backcountry this late in the year anymore. Most of them hike the marked trails and only for a day or so. You picked a weird time for your vacation.”

“We’re not really here on vacation,” I mumble. Val seems to sense my disinterest in exploring the matter any further, because she stays silent after that. I can feel her eyes on me though.

When the camp is settled, Thor ushers me to a place near the fire, wrapping me up in a blanket that Miek produces from his bag. It smells like wet dog.

“Will you stop that?” I give Thor an exasperated sigh. “I’m fine. Stop treating me like I’m made of glass.”

“Easy there,” Korg chimes in when Thor leaves to stash our bags in the tent. “He’s just taking care of you. I used to fuss all about my man when he got injured, back then when we were still together.”

For a moment, all I can do is blink at the statement. Then something in my brain clicks into place.

“He’s not my  _ man _ ,” I tell Korg with a frown, but my heart starts beating heavily in my chest. “Thor’s my  _ brother _ .”

“Oh,” Korg looks at me sheepishly. “Well, the heart wants what it wants, right?”

I stare at him. “ _ Excuse me _ ?”

“Well,” Korg says, scratching his chin absentmindedly. “Love’s a complicated thing. And from the way he looks at you…” He lowers his voice, as to make sure I’m the only one who can hear him, “I’ve worked with a lot of people. Seen all sorts of stuff. So… it’s cool.”

When I open my mouth to protest, Thor calls out from behind Korg, waving two cans of tomato soup in his hands.

“Look what I found!” he cheers, smiling one of his wide smiles. “Tonight we feast!”

The soup warms me from inside, and the nutrition eases some of the pain from my bones. My head feels a little better once the only light left is the campfire crackling softly in its pit between the logs we’re sitting on. 

Val has uncovered a bottle of vodka that we pass around taking swigs from. It feels nice and cozy; although I’d much rather be alone with Thor again. I don’t really feel like socializing at the moment and the company is wearing me out. If it were only the two of us, I could have at least spent the evening in silence without having to listen to Korg’s endless stories about his work as a tour-guide and his ex-boyfriend – a guy called Doug – or to Val’s cynical comments, while Thor laughs loud and roaring, sharing some stories of his own. But most of all, I don’t want to deal with the knowing glances all three of them shoot Thor and me.

“So… just the two of you, huh?”

Korg’s tone snaps me out of my thoughts. The question is layered with the same notion as the looks. 

“Wanted to get a little… you know… peace and quiet from everything?”

“Well, it’s not exactly what we’re here for…” Thor says, taking the bottle from Miek, who’s offering it to me. “I don’t think you should drink tonight,” he explains, when I open my mouth. He speaks in a low voice, although it’s so quiet that the others can hear us anyway, and brushes my arm lightly.

“I don’t need you to tell me,” I inform him.

“Must be hard.” Korg has watched our little exchange with mild curiosity. “I imagine it’s quite a struggle back at your home… having an relationship like yours, I mean…”

My head snaps around (really not a good idea at all, the immediate headache informs me). “I  _ told  _ you-” I begin, but Thor has already started speaking.

“I don’t think there’s such a thing as an easy relationship,” he says, shrugging. “We manage pretty well, though.”

He says it so nonchalantly, the only thing I can do is gape at him. He either hasn’t the slightest clue what Korg is implying, or…. or…

“Coming here was the right thing to do, then. Hikers don’t judge. Hikers just hike.” Korg nods knowingly.

“We’re not-,” I start a second attempt to set this right, but again Thor simply overrides my sentence.

“Actually, we’re here to honor our dad. We’ve brought his ashes with us, to scatter them at Memurubu.”

“No way! You carry him around in your backpack?”

“It was dad’s last wish. He asked us to take him back to his home.” Thor fiddles with the bottle’s label, peeling it off, then hands the vodka over to Val, who’s sitting on his other side. He’s not taken a single swig from it.

I still stare at Thor. Is he really not getting the meaning behind Korg’s words? Or does he simply not care about what these strangers think about us?

_ Well _ , I think, stopping my hands from worrying at each other.  _ Maybe he’s right. Maybe it doesn’t really matter. _

The thumping in my head leaves my ears ringing and I close my eyes. Perhaps taking this for a sign of grief, Thor leans against my side, sliding his hand up to my neck. I let him.

“So, you’re Norwegian, too?”

“Only half,” Thor nods, staring into the fire. “Mom was American. She passed away when we were still kids.”

“Aw, man,” Korg grumbles, voice heavy with empathy. “I’m so sorry. Dying sucks!”

“Thanks.” Thor offers him a watery smile, wiping at his nose.

“Dying sucks!” Val repeats, toasting and taking a swig from the bottle.

“You two are good sons. To come all this way just to grant your father’s dying wish.” Korg gives me a soft, empathetic pat on the back.

The joking and playful mood has shifted and the grief that’s lifting its head amongst us grabs at my chest and leaves me gasping. The soft firelight, the empathy of these three strangers, Thor’s sad little smiles and his unnerving affections – it’s just all too much to bear. I need to get away from these things. Fast.

I shrug out from under the smelly blanket and stagger to my feet. 

Thor looks at me, the concern back in his eyes.

“I’m tired,” I say hastily, already making my way to our tent. “I think I’ll go and give my head some rest.”

When I see my brother opening his mouth and starting to rise, I hold my hands up and add, “I’m okay. I can do this myself.” 

And with that I retreat to the dark comfort of the tent.

\---

It can’t be anywhere close to dawn when I stir awake. Aching penetrates every muscle and bone in my body, and my leg burns, but the sleep has eased most of the headache off. Unlike the night before, I don’t feel cold in the slightest. My dry mouth and full bladder are what pulled me awake. When I turn to get up and take care of both, I find myself wrapped up in Thor’s arms.

He must’ve snuck into the tent sometime after I’ve drifted off and…

Thor lets out a quiet snore, loosening his grip around my middle. Heart hammering in my chest, I push his arm off carefully, then stagger to my feet.

In my haste to slip into my shoes and get out of the tent, I forget to grab my parka.

Outside it’s freezing and in the pale moonlight I can make out the thin coating of ice on the tent’s rain fly. My breath comes out in tiny clouds as I hobble towards a set of bushes to take a leak.

The air is so crisp it almost hurts to breathe. An almost perfect half-moon illuminates everything in a pale, silver light. There’s frosting on the ground, and the boulders next to me glisten like they’re coated with fine glitter.

Then the wind takes up again, making my teeth clatter – a strange sound in the silence of the night.

The warmth of the tent is welcoming as I climb back inside and pull the zipper back up.

“You okay?”

Thor’s soft, raspy voice nearly makes me jump out of my skin. “Jesus,” I heave, climbing over to him, flopping down on my sleeping bag and feeling for the water bottle I left with my clothes. “I’m fine. I just needed some air.”

Eventually my fingers brush the side of the bottle. The water feels soothing and cool against the back of my throat. Next to me, Thor shifts in his own sleeping bag. He lets out a small yawn, then his breathing evens out.

I sit in the dark for a moment, just listening to my brother’s rhythmic panting and the tiny puffing sound he makes when exhaling.

And for a moment, there’s nothing else inside my mind. No thoughts and no feelings. Just comfortable silence – and the sound of Thor’s breathing.

When I lie down and push my legs back into my sleeping bag, Thor shifts awake again.

His searching hand on my arm tries to reel me in.

“Thor,” I protest, facing his direction to push him off.

“Shh,” he says, his grip as firm as ever. “Go back to sleep.”

A second later my nose presses into the soft fabric of Thor’s shirt and I take in the smell of home again. Thor’s arms wrap around me, one hand taking its familiar resting place against my neck, and all I feel is his warmth radiating through my body.

I’ve stopped squirming, but my heart is beating faster than ever.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” It’s a weak attempt, even to my own ears.

His grip loosens. “Why?”

“You know why,” I whisper.

“Do you want me to let go?”

My mind goes blank at that.  _ No _ , the tiny voice in my head says.  _ No, you don’t want that at all. _

“I…” But I don’t know how to continue. I reach for the old familiar anger that has accompanied me through all these years, but I can’t find it anywhere. It’s hard to be angry in the dark.

My fingers curl into the fabric of Thor’s shirt.

He pulls me closer.

As my heartbeat starts to normalize and the seconds pass into minutes, I give in to the silence and the warmth, and to the smell of earth, rain, and sundried clothes. My eyelids grow heavy and the gentle rising and falling of Thor’s chest lulls me back to sleep.

Lips press to my forehead. Not for long; just a brush. But now I’m more awake than ever.

\---

We say our goodbyes to Korg, Miek and Val at around ten the next morning. According to Korg, the way up to Memurubu should take us another four hours of walking, which means that we’ll have to spend another night in the tent, after we’ve finished what we came for.

Korg tells us he’d be happy to welcome us at his home in Oslo. Thor thanks him again for everything and promises to come and say hi, if time allows. He knows as well as I do that it probably won’t, with our flight leaving in two days.

I know it’s stupid, but as we’re walking I have a feeling that the tiny weight that is the bag with Odin’s remains becomes heavier with each mile that takes us nearer to dad’s designated resting place. It’s like a radiating presence in my back.

Thor and I stay silent while we’re walking.

I don’t know what to say anyway. When I woke this morning, I was alone in the tent, wrapped in two sleeping bags. By the time I got dressed and started to pack up, I had convinced myself that I must’ve hallucinated the kiss. After all, by the time of last night I’d been sleep-deprived for two days and bumped my head pretty badly.

And even if I hadn’t imagined things, what other obligation could Thor have had than pure brotherly affection? And physical display of affection has always been a currency that Thor has distributed without a second thought. His whole life he’s been all hugs, and pats, and an arm around shoulders.

_ Except the time you came home to Odin’s funeral. And he didn’t know how to touch you, _ the voice in the back of my mind purrs.  _ Because he knows. He knows of your twisted desires. And they disgust him. _

A cold hand grips at my heart. I shoot a quick glance at Thor who’s walking a few feet ahead of me.

This is all my fault. If I hadn’t gone and fallen in love, we could still have the bond we shared as kids. We could be just that: brothers.

But now, all we are is in ruins.

\---

**New York City, 2019, two months earlier**

“Here you are!” Thor’s blond hairline appeared through the trap door. Loki, sitting at his old familiar place below the circular window, watched his brother hoist himself up into the attic, messing up his black suit as his knees hit the dusty floorboards.

“We missed you downstairs.”

Loki huffed and turned his head to look out of the window again. He’d fled the gathering of mourners that occupied the living room, the salon, and the better part of the kitchen. He’d made it through the funeral service without losing his mind over the sniffing guests or the boring eulogy the priest had delivered. But at the reception afterwards, the outstretched hands, friendly pats on the back, and heartfelt words of sympathy had been too much. They meant a lot to Thor, he could see that, but they made Loki feel more out of place than ever.

He’d barely spoken to Odin in those past five years, and he hardly considered himself as mourner in chief. That was Thor’s place, and he was doing a convincing job: the watery eyes, the grateful hugs, the sniffled thank-yous. For once Loki felt more than happy to leave the spotlight to his brother. Instead, he’d used an opening at the end of a very trying conversation with one of Odin’s old neighbors to sneak up the stairs and into the attic.

Up here, he felt like he’d stumbled through a loop in time: Everything was as he remembered it. The smell, the arrangement of things stowed away up here; even his parents’ old winter coats occupied the same corner as ever.

Only the thick layer of dust and the dirt on the window testified the time that had passed since Loki had last set foot in here. That, and the little plush frog that had disappeared from its place below the window. Loki had looked around the room for it, but it was nowhere to be found. The only proof that it had ever been here was that the layer of dust coating the spot where the frog had sat was thinner than everywhere else.

_ Someone must’ve moved it _ , Loki thought.  _ Maybe dad threw it out. _

Thor sloped down against the wall opposite him. He looked horrible, although he’d looked even worse when Loki had first arrived two days ago. Back then he’d worn a soiled, oversized shirt over a pair of worn out sweatpants and, worst of all,  _ crocs _ . His hair had been a mess, helplessly tangled and seemingly unwashed for days. He’d cleaned up for the service and tied back his hair in a messy bun, but his beard was still a catastrophe.

“How are you holding up?” Thor asked.

Loki raised a brow. “I think I should be the one asking  _ you _ that.”

Thor smiled a wobbly smile back at him and fished for a tissue in his pocket. All his smiles had been watery those last two days. The stream of tears had hardly ever stopped flowing. Loki’s eyes remained dry. Even as he’d said his goodbyes to Odin in the morgue. He just couldn’t bring himself to. It was as if Thor was crying those tears for him instead.

“I’ll manage,” Thor sniffed and blew his nose.

Loki felt his expression soften. “It’s okay to miss him.”

“He was a great dad.” Thor’s voice sounded husky.

“Huh... Yeah. And he was an asshole.”

Thor chuckled. “Oh, he was an asshole. Remember how he grounded me for a month because I snuck into Idunn’s garden and stole a bunch of apples from her tree? Even made me go straight to bed after dinner for a whole week – without dessert.”

“I snuck you dessert, if I remember correctly,” Loki remarked, tapping his index finger to his lips. “One time he almost caught me with a can of ice cream.”

“Well, if  _ I  _ remember correctly,” Thor huffed, the stream of tears having run dry for once, “you were the one who put me up to the whole apple-thing.”

Loki smiled. “Me? I merely remarked how delicious those apples looked from afar. You were the one bragging about climbing over the fence to pick some.”

Thor huffed and then started speaking in a higher voice, imitating a much younger version of his brother. “ _ Oh, Thor, those apples look sooo good. I wish we could have some. Greedy old Idunn always keeps them for herself _ … Yeah. Of course. You’re completely innocent.”

They looked at each other, then they both started giggling.

“God, it feels so good to laugh,” Thor said, leaning his head back against the wall. Still smiling, he looked at his brother. “I’ve missed you.”

Something inside Loki stirred, leaving him a bit uneasy. “It’s good to see you again, brother,” he said after a brief pause. “I’m glad I could help you. With untangling this mess, I mean.” He gestured vaguely towards the floor.

“I could use some more help, y’know?” Thor crooked his head to the side, studying his brother’s face as he waited for his reaction. “Managing the estate and all. I know dad gave the house to me and that you’ll be paid out, but-”

“No,” Loki cut him off. He felt his heart speed up again, as it had done one too many times these last days. He knew he’d already stayed too long and he needed to go away before his feelings got the better of him again. He thought about how Thor hadn’t hugged him the day he’d arrived at their parent’s house. He wasn’t going to risk the tender bond of peace that had formed between him and Thor since then, or his own carefully held up sanity. Not for the treacherous feeling of being close to something he could never have – even if Thor’s attention was like a warm coat over his freezing heart.

Loki just couldn’t do it. The inevitable pain that would eventually set in and that he’d already suffered too long, just wasn’t worth it.

“No,” he said again, a little gentler this time. “I’m sorry. I really can’t stay – I need to get back to Seattle.”

“Of course,” Thor said, obviously trying to mask his disappointment. “But you’ll call?”

_ Definitely not. _ “Sure.”

“Good. Good.” Thor closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the wall again. He seemed to consider something. After a bunch of minutes, in which Loki occupied himself with examining the spots and splinters and missing chunks in the windowsill, he finally said, “Do you remember the last part of dad’s will?”

Loki lifted his brow without looking away from the window. “The one where he talked about handling his remains? Yeah. I remember. Pretty wild, if you ask me. Never took him for the sentimental kind.”

“He was very specific about where he wanted his ashes to be scattered. Memurubu. He took us there when we went to Norway on vacation.”

“Yeah. Best vacation we ever had,” Loki hummed, picking at the window frame.

“I was wondering if we could go there together,” Thor said carefully.

At this, Loki finally turned his head to face him. Eyes, bright and clear as the sky looked back at him, and the softness in their expression made him go weak in the knees. He opened his mouth, not sure what he wanted to say, but Thor was already talking again. And smiling at him. One of those smiles he’d so often shown when they were still kids and that he now smiled so seldomly. This smile was the promise of adventure, and it made Loki yearn for the time they’d build pillow-forts and conquered the universe.

“C’mon, Loki. It’ll be fun! We can go hiking, like we used to. God, we haven’t been hiking in forever!”

_ No, _ Loki thought.  _ Not since mother died. _

_ ‘Take care of each other.’ _

“Don’t make it too much fun, though. We’ll be carrying Odin’s ashes after all.”

Thor beamed at him. “So you’re coming with me?”

Loki barely had the chance to nod before he was buried in a bear hug.

When he passed the open door to Thor’s room later that evening, he spotted something on the bottom shelf over the bed. There, with the green color of its cloth faded and one eye still dangling on a thread, sat the plush frog. 

Loki couldn’t shake the impression that the properly attached eye was giving him a pretty smug look.

\---

**Somewhere in Norway, 2019, autumn**

“I feel like we should say something.”

“Like what? A eulogy?”

“Yeah. We can’t just dump his ashes in the water, can we?”

Thor and I are standing at the edge of the water. It’s the lake from the photograph that Thor carries around in his pocket. As clearly as I recall the blissful month of vacation me and my family have spent here all those years ago, I don’t really recognize anything about this place. 

Anyway, it’s still beautiful. The massif behind us, tall and dark against the overcast sky; the wide, frizzy water before us, a pool of obsidian, with its tiny waves, curled by the light breeze, and breaking against the rocky shore. I kinda get why Odin’s heart has been aching for this place. It’s quiet, and raw, and it pulls at my heart, ripping it open piece by piece with every second I keep looking at it.

I think about Thor’s words for a moment. “All right. You go first.”

Thor turns his eyes away from the view in front of us and towards the bag of ashes in my outstretched hand. The zipper on top is undone.

Thor frowns. “I don’t know how to start.” He looks to me.

I sigh. “This was your idea, remember?” But I grab a fist full of ashes from the bag. They feel smooth between my fingers, like pulverized silk. 

I clear my throat. “This is it, dad. You‘re home. We made it. Rest in peace now.” And I dump the ashes onto the water’s surface. The wind takes them, forming a grey curtain slowly lowering over the lake.

I offer the bag to Thor again, who carefully grabs a second hand of ashes. “I miss you, dad,” he says in a low voice, breaking a bit at the last syllable. “And I miss mum, too. I hope you’re with her now.” He sniffs, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his free hand. 

When he’s finally found his voice again, he adds: “Thank you, for being our dad. And thank you, for bringing the two of us back together.” He shoots me a quivering smile as he’s opening his hand to let go of the ashes.

And there it is – the old familiar knot, making it hard for me to swallow. I feel the sudden urge to grab Thor by the arm. To hold his hand and never let go again.

Instead, I take the plastic bag into both hands and – after a glance at Thor, and a returning nod from him – turn it over, shaking out the remaining ashes. 

They paint grey streaks on the lake’s surface as we stand there watching them mingle with the water until they’re gone.

As Thor wipes at his tears again, the strange feeling shook loose by Thor’s words spreads through my body. It tugs painfully at my chest, making it hard for me to breathe. 

“Thor,” I say slowly, not daring to look at him. “I… I’m…” I don’t know how to finish that sentence.

I feel Thor’s arm slide around my lower back, pulling me into a half-hug.

“I know,” he says. His voice is calm and free of sniffling.

“I’m so sorry,” I finally manage, barely a whisper, the words struggling to get around the lump in my throat.

“I know,” Thor says again. 

“No.” I shake my head, stepping out of his half-embrace. “No, you don’t. You can’t possibly know.”

Thor stay’s silent this time. He only looks at me with an unreadable expression.

“I’m so sorry about everything,” I start again, pulling at the front of my shirt, crumpling it between my fingers. There’s a burning sensation building up behind my eyes; but they stay dry. “I fucked this up. It’s all my fault. If it weren’t for me, you’d be off somewhere, married, happy. Maybe you’d have a family.”

“You’re my family,” Thor says softly.

I frown at him. Has he listened to a word I’ve said? 

“No, you don’t get it-,” I begin, but he cuts me off.

“Oh, I do get it. I know, trust me. You’re my family. And right now, I’m the happiest I’ve been in a very long time.” And he takes my hand and holds it. 

I stare at our hands for a long moment. The fingers pressing against my own feel warm and dry. 

Then Thor speaks again.

“Let’s go and set up camp. It’s getting dark.”

While we work, Thor hardly ever leaves my side. Not when we unpack the tent and put it up near a small bluff of trees. Not when we go hunting for firewood. During dinner, he sits close to me, only an inch or two away, and I feel a heat creeping through me that has nothing to do with the campfire.

And all the while he keeps  _ touching me _ : a hand on my shoulder when he tries to get past me; his arm brushing mine while we’re eating. It’s as though Thor’s trying to keep the connection, even after he’s let go of my hand.

I feel as though there’s something big and unspoken that’s hanging between us.

When we finally creep into our sleeping bags, I don’t even bother to try bringing some space between us. I flop down right into Thor’s waiting arms.

_ It’s much warmer this way _ , I tell myself.

_ Right _ , says the little voice in my head slyly.

For a long time, my heartbeat is drumming wildly in my ears. But a hand at my neck and a thumb rubbing gentle circles on a spot right below my ear, slowly ease the tension from my muscles.

“Been some rough few days, huh?” I can feel Thor’s voice more than I hear it; a deep rumble, vibrating through his body.

“I don’t know about you,” I mumble sleepily, “but my main goal from now on will be reaching some place with a hot shower and somewhere I can shave these stubbles off.” I scratch at the scruff that has been sprouting on the lower half of my face. It’s been three days without a mirror, but I can imagine the sight: I’m a lumber-jacket shirt away from looking like a hipster.

Thor chuckles. “I like your scruff. It suits you.”

“You’ve always had terrible taste,” I say, suddenly more awake now and trying to ignore the flush that’s rising to my cheeks. “Your clothes, your food… hell, even your taste in movies is  _ horrible _ . I mean,  _ Highlander? Really? _ ”

Thor pokes me in the side. “First of all,  _ Highlander _ is a great movie! Thrilling storyline, brilliant music – it’s a masterpiece,” he rumbles, but I can hear the smile in his voice. He ignores my laughing protest. “Second… I do like beautiful things, too. A few at least.”

I snort. “Oh? Go on then. Name one.”

I think of Sif and Jane. I suppose they’d pass as beautiful, no matter the perspective.

The thumb below my ear stops in its movement. “You.”

My heart skips a beat.

_ This is it _ , I think.  _ This is the moment where you have to decide how much more of this intimacy you want to take. How much more of this you  _ can _ take, before you fall apart.  _

“You really can’t say that,” I say softly, after a long pause, a pit forming in my stomach.

“Why not?” he asks, just as softly as me. “It’s true.”

“No! It’s because…” A sudden ringing in my head drowns out my thoughts. The headache from the day before has not quite passed yet and is regaining its strength now. I take the hand on my neck and push it off me. 

Taking a deep breath, I start again. “I need to tell you something. And I need you to  _ listen _ , Thor. You got that?”

Thor pushes back a few inches. Even though it’s dark, I can tell that he tries to make out my face. His frown is almost hearable.

“I get it,” he says.

“You promise you’ll listen?”

“I promise.”

“Okay.” I take another deep breath. With my heart thumping painfully in my chest, I open my mouth, but at first nothing comes out. There’s sweat on my palms and I try to wipe it off on the inside of my sleeping bag. It‘s no use; I have to get it out now or never.

“ _ Iloveyou _ ,” I blurt out. It sounds like one word and not three. I clear my throat and try again.

“I… I’ve told you before. Maybe you’ve forgotten, but-”

“No, I haven’t forgotten,” Thor says, sounding serious. “I remember.”

“Good.” Although I’m not sure if it’s really a good thing. “So, you know why you can’t say things like that to me. It’s like throwing a burning match into a tinderbox.”

“Loki, I-” he starts, but I cut him off.

“No, you promised to _ listen _ , remember?”

Thor snaps his mouth shut so hard, I hear his teeth clack.

“This feels like the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and it’s eating up all of my courage right now, and I’d really much rather bolt. So, I need you to listen, because I’ll only say this once. I love you. I’m  _ in love _ with you, and I’ve spent the better half of my life trying to stop being in love with you. I’ve tried everything I could think of, but even moving to the other side of the continent didn’t work. When you called after dad had passed, I thought I could manage. I came back. When you suggested we’d go hiking in Norway to bury him, I still thought I could manage. I was  _ wrong _ .”

My hands have started to shake. I clench them into fists.

“And you can’t just go around, calling me beautiful, or holding my hand, or pulling me close as we fall asleep in a fucking  _ tent _ . Because all of these things mean a lot more to  _ me _ than they do to  _ you _ , and I’m already just barely hanging on. I can’t…” Breathing hard and fast, I take a moment to steady myself, before I continue.

“Look, I know you need this. You always needed to be close to people. And I know you need this even more since mother died. But I really can’t take any more of this. I  _ want _ you. It’s eating me up from the inside. And I know that you’ll never see me this way. I know that you’ll never want me this way, and you see, that’s why you need to stop getting so close.”

My mouth is suddenly very dry and I feel like I’ve just ran a marathon in under two minutes.

I hear Thor taking in a breath as the flood of words from my mouth stops.

It feels like an eternity, before he finally speaks. “But… _ I do _ .”

Now, this reply just isn’t making any sense. “You do what?” I ask, confused.

“I  _ do _ want you,” Thor says.

My mind goes blank. I hear what he’s saying, but the words take some time to register.

“You…  _ what _ ?”

“I wanted to… I mean, I  _ meant _ to tell you. When we got back.”

I push myself up on one elbow. “Meant to tell me what?”

“I love you.”

Silence.

Staring in the direction I presume his face to be, I still try to process what I’ve just heard. This has to be a joke. A sick, cruel little joke. Thor can’t possibly… Can he?

“Oh well, ha ha. Very funny, brother.” A small spark of anger lights in my chest. “This is quite the time to try and get back at me for everything I’ve done. I’m trying to be honest with you, for once. And this is how you repay me?”

There’s rustling next to me, and in the dim light from outside I can see that Thor’s up on his elbows now, too.

“I’m not joking,” he says. “I love you!”

And then, with more softness he repeats it. “I’m _ in love _ with you, too. I have been in love with you ever since I can remember. Please, Loki. I need you to believe me. This isn’t a joke.”

“No,” I manage to get out, practically shaking with – with what? Hurt? Anger? “No, no, no! You don’t get to put me through all this shit for the past _ twelve years  _ and now just-  _ Fuck _ !” 

I wipe at the sudden, hot wetness in my eyes. Here they finally are. Tears. Streaming down my cheeks like melted water from an icicle in the sunlight.

“Loki-”

“No!” I cut him off, brushing furiously at my cheeks. It’s no use – the tears won’t stop streaming. It’s like the dam has finally broken. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through? Do you know how much self-hate I’ve build up? Telling myself that I was abnormal, an abomination?”

“Yes,” is his answer.

“ _ Liar _ !” I almost yell it.

“What do you think  _ I’ve _ been through?” Thor yells back, making me jump. “You think I don’t know how you felt all these years, after I’d learned that you had feelings for me, too?”

“Then why didn’t you  _ tell me _ ?” I barely register that I’m screaming now. “If you loved me, like you said – if you  _ still  _ love me – why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Because you’re my  _ brother _ !”

The words die on my lips. I stare into the darkness.

Thor must have put his face in his hand, because his next words sound muffled. “ _ We’re brothers. _ And I knew I wasn’t supposed to feel the things I did. I tried to get rid of them. I got into relationships, told myself if I only tried and looked  _ hard enough _ , I’d find someone to be happy with and get over you. When you first kissed me in that sandbox, I almost caved in. I would’ve caved, if mom hadn’t…”

He draws in a shuddering breath.

“Then you moved away and I thought ‘ _ Oh, good. Maybe it’s finally time to let him go and be happy for once’ _ . I met Jane, and I think I really  _ was  _ in love with her. But even then I always thought of  _ you! _ I just couldn’t keep my mind from wandering back to you. I’d hoped the wedding would turn my head around. That building a family of my own would stop me from yearning… for the one thing I  _ couldn’t have _ . The one person in the world that was out of my reach. But then the whole wedding blew up in my face... And when you told me you loved me, I didn’t want to believe it. Because how could it be? After all the years I’d tried to stash it down? That had always been the one lifeline I’d clung to: That what I felt for you was unnatural and that you didn’t feel the same way.”

“But I did,” I say breathlessly, my anger gone as quickly as it came.

“ _ Aye _ ,” Thor says, and for the faintest of heartbeats we’re both silent.

Then he kisses me.

I feel hands on my shoulders and suddenly I’m all bundled up in Thor’s arms. He pulls me close, all the while never breaking the kiss. His lips are soft, firm, and wet, and I don’t know if it’s from my tears or his.

My right hand clenches at the front of his shirt; the left finds its way to Thor’s hair, gripping hard at it. 

I fear that if I let go – even for a moment – all of this will fade and turn out to be a dream.

After all this time, tossing, and turning, and fighting against what I wanted most in the world, this really isn’t what I had expected to happen. Sitting in a tent in the middle of Norway, my lips on my brother’s, and him, kissing me back with an intensity, as if he’s trying to devour me.

It‘s  _ hunger _ , crashing us and every wall that we‘ve built so carefully. Kissing like this feels like coming up for air after the longest dive. 

When we finally break apart, gasping, I turn and pat for my backpack.

With hasty motions I unzip the front pocket and rummage around, until my fingers finally close around cool metal. 

_ I need to see _ , I think.  _ I need to see his face. To see that this is all real. If I have to wait till the morning to see his face, I’ll go mad. _

The light from the flashlight is so bright, that I can’t do anything but blink at first. 

And then, there he is: Thor, right in front of me, squinting his eyes at the beam of the flashlight pointed in his direction. I turn it, so the beam faces the tent’s wall.

“You’re still here,” I say, feeling a rock about the size of the moon slide off my heart.

“I’m here,” Thor says, a soft smile curling at the corners of his mouth. He reaches out his hand to place it right above my heart. “And I really don’t intend to go anywhere else.”

I look up and meet his eyes - now big and dark in the light of the flashlight - and try to give him a smile. I really feel like smiling, but my face crumples halfway through it, and the next moment I’m back in Thor’s arms again, sobbing against his collarbone.

The tears just won’t stop coming. 

And I really have no intention to hold them back. 

The flood follows the drought - and, after all, the best thing one can do when it’s raining is to let it rain.

**\--The End--**


End file.
